


Mr Spooky

by derenai



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Reincarnation, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:26:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 50,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2340056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derenai/pseuds/derenai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a ghost is not fun and Arthur would know because he’s been one for years, some of the major inconvenients being that no one can see, hear or touch him. The most irritating thing, though, are the people settling in his house as if he didn't exist. Hopefully, it’s not hard to scare them away. Everything changes when he meets Merlin, a very unusual tenant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First BB and I made it! Though at times I was pretty sure I wouldn't. But I couldn't have done it alone!
> 
> A huge thanks to matchboximpala for filling in when I found myself without an artist and producing amazing art for this story! The artpost is [here](http://matchboximpala.livejournal.com/165792.html). Go and leave tons of comments!
> 
> Thanks to my beta aeris444 for her help and support (which included convincing me on a daily basis not to delete this work). And last but not least, thank you to ac_mod for the amazing work organizing this challenge and for helping me when I needed it.

The trouble when you're a ghost, as Arthur had soon found out, is that after some time people get settled in your house, change the furniture and the decoration, disturb your peaceful existence and sooner rather than later you find yourself a stranger in your own home. Arthur had seen it all: overwhelmed parents of two screaming children, a single mother growing marijuana in the cellar, a young man beating his fiancée or students never bothering to clean the place. None of them had stayed long, Arthur had taken care of that. That they couldn't see him didn't mean he couldn't make his presence known. For a while, he'd thought his efforts had finally paid back. It had been over a year since the lasts occupants had run away screaming. He had high hopes to be left in peace. Until the day Merlin came in.

At first, Arthur tried to stay open-minded. The new tenant might be nice. He wasn't completely opposed to the idea of someone living in his house, after all, it was just that whoever had shown up until then had never fit his description of people he could tolerate living with. Though, when he saw the boxes, piles and piles of them, so many that Arthur wondered how their content could fit the house, he had a bad feeling. Then there was the tenant himself. Arthur remembered him from his visiting the house. Tall, with a flash of dark, messy hair and ridiculous ears. But above all, Arthur remembered his dressing style. Because who wore red plaid trousers? With a blue plaid shirt? Arthur felt his positivity weaken minutes by minutes. Why did the house have to lure strange tenants? Arthur knew the answer, of course. Who else would settle in a haunted house?

Merlin's taste in decoration was as awful as his taste for clothes, as the ghost soon discovered. The living-room was now furnished with a baroque 3-seaters standing next to a victorian coffee table and an Ikea TV stand. The dreadful mismatched style continued in the bedroom were a wooden four-poster bed sat imposingly, accompanied by a Chinese lacquer screen and a huge wardrobe. The entire decoration was such an affront to Arthur's good taste that he found himself having to turn the closet in the hallway into his safe place. With all the troubles that brought seeing that his real safe place was the bedroom and that being outside of it for too long made him feel antsy. That would definitely not do. Arthur didn't hesitate long before launching his plan to scare away the new tenant.

He waited until Merlin went to bed, until everything was quiet and the man was on the verge of sleep. That's when Arthur walked down the stairs to make them creak. He loved that part, the very first time he revealed himself to new tenants, discovering how they reacted and gauging how easy it would be to scare them away. He liked to begin with small things and gradually increase his level of creepiness. Playing with his victims, seeing their wariness turn into terror, was his guilty pleasure. After all, that was the only way he had to interact with people. He would never harm them, though. A good scare was something but he realised it wasn't their fault if they had chosen the wrong house. And anyway, he'd never been violent.

As Merlin didn't seem to have heard him, Arthur slammed the kitchen door before making the floor creak again. Sure enough, this time, the man came downstairs, wearing nothing but a pyjamas bottom. "Who's there?" he asked, turning the light on. To Arthur's surprise, he didn't carry a weapon of any sort. He curiously lacked wariness for someone so thin and fragile-looking. When he found no one in the living room, he repeated his question and visited the kitchen, followed by Arthur. Once he saw the room was empty, the man remained motionless for a few moments then went upstairs again.

Decided not to let his game be ruined by this scrawny new tenant, Arthur transposed in front of the bedroom and shut the door just when the man was going to enter. Surely this would work. This always worked. But the tenant just rolled his eyes, opened the door and threw himself on the bed. A minute later he was snoring. Well, that was painfully anticlimactic.

Arthur wouldn't let himself be defeated that easily, though.  He had standards for people allowed to live in his house and Merlin definitely didn't fit in them - not that anyone ever had.  Also there was this annoying tingling on Arthur's skin every time Merlin was around, that had to mean they weren't compatible. So if Arthur waited for Merlin to be settled before trying the next step of his plan, it was for practical reasons and not at all because of his previous failure. He didn't have to wait for long, in spite of the amount of belongings the tenant had. Much to Arthur's dismay, he had even managed to fit the content of the numerous boxes in the house. There were now ornaments everywhere, all coming from different parts of the world and different times, displaying a deep lack of taste that made Arthur wince every time he ventured out of his closet. Those trinkets, though, were part of the next step in the ghost's plan.

During the night or when the tenant was at work, Arthur misplaced them. He would take a plastic knight and put it in the place of a jade dragon which itself would take the place of an Indian-style elephant-shaped box. Of course, that was without taking into account the tenant's messiness and his inability to know where he had put pretty much anything. To get around this problem, Arthur took a step further and switched the content from the kitchen cupboards. It was painful because of his need to concentrate on every object he touched if he didn't want his hands to run through it and let it crash on the floor but he figured it was worth it. Except that, when the alarm set off and a sleepy-eyed, ruffled-haired Merlin made his way to the kitchen to prepare some tea, he only chuckled at the sight of the plates in the mugs cupboard. Arthur refused to panic but this was getting frustrating nonetheless.

His next attempt, writing the words "get out" in the condensation on the mirror while Merlin showered, was met by a similar reaction. And, alright, Arthur was worried now. No one had ever resisted his methods. This loon couldn't be the first person to stay in the house for more than six months. Arthur had to find a way of making him leave.

After days of searching for new tricks, though, the ghost hadn't come up with any idea. Out of desperation, he wrote a death-threat on the kitchen table with ketchup and splattered the rest of the bottle in the room. If that didn't faze his tenant, it would at least force him to clean the mess. It turned out that it didn't but Arthur learned a few things about Merlin nonetheless.

As he waited, contemplating his work, the ghost lacked the excitement he used to feel any time he played a trick on a tenant. He knew that if Merlin hadn't been impressed by his previous ones, he wouldn't be that day either. Still, Arthur wanted to see the frustration on his face when he would have to clean the place. So when Merlin came and chuckled at the sight of the threat, Arthur tried not to be too offended.  But then, the tenant turned right to the ghost and smiled wickedly.

Arthur gaped. For a moment, he felt something he hadn't experienced since his death: hope. The hope that someone could finally see him. The hope that, even if his existence would never turn back to normal again, it could at least become less lonely. In that moment, he didn't even care anymore about Merlin's weirdness or ugly tastes; he just wanted to exist for someone and not only as stuff from nightmares. "You-you can see me?"

Yet Merlin didn't answer. He didn't even react to his words. Only then did Arthur realise that Merlin was looking a tad too high and too much to the left. Merlin didn't see him. He just happened to stare into space almost where Arthur was standing.

Arthur could have slapped himself. No one could see. No one ever would. He'd been a ghost long enough to be certain of that. How could he be so stupid as to think Merlin was different?

He was going to transpose to his closet, miserable and ashamed of his naïve hopes, when something incredible happened. Merlin's eyes turned gold and in a split second the kitchen was clean.

Arthur's mouth fell open. His acceptance of the supernatural had notably improved since he had turned into a ghost but this... This was too much. He stood staring as Merlin made tea as if it could explain what the ghost had just witnessed. Then Merlin turned back to Arthur and winked before leaving the room with his mug.

The ghost felt the same dizziness he had felt when he had realised he was a ghost, the same swirling thoughts as his mind fought against the impossibility of it all. Except this time those feelings didn't come with the heart-crushing realisation that no matter how loud he shouted no one could hear him, no matter what he did no one could see him, that he couldn't even touch anything.

He transposed in the bedroom. Sod the grotesque four-poster bed, he needed his safe place. He crumpled in the corner, behind the lacquered screen, as he tried to process what he had just witnessed. Merlin had smiled and winked at him. One might have been a coincidence but both... Merlin could sense his presence. Arthur had no idea how, maybe it was linked to his... special abilities. It didn't matter. For the first time in four years, someone had directly acknowledged Arthur's presence and not just through his tricks. Arthur's whole body was shaking. He didn't know what it meant for him, if he should be afraid or relieved. It was all too much to take in.

Then there were Merlin's supernatural powers. That, too, was mind-boggling. And Arthur wondered, if Merlin had powers, then maybe, just maybe he had some knowledge about paranormal. Could he have met ghosts before? Because, even if Arthur hadn't, he wasn't pig-headed enough to think he was the only one. It could explain Merlin's reactions. But most of all, that meant he might know why Arthur was still there.

It wasn't something Arthur thought about a lot these days, all the questions he had about his conditions. He had shoved them aside the same moment he had realised his rage about it would bring nothing except pain. He hadn't quite accepted what he was but learned to exist with it because he didn't have any choice. That didn't prevent questions from haunting him occasionally. That didn't prevent the fear to be stuck in this existence for the whole eternity to seize him and crush him. So if Merlin had answers, Arthur had to know. He could even put aside the tenant’s horrible tastes, at least long enough to learn more about Merlin, to determine if he was trustworthy, to find a way to communicate with him.

When Arthur finally relaxed, night had fallen already. That happened sometime. He would be engrossed in his thoughts and without him noticing, hours would have passed. He supposed it was a good thing. Distractions were scarce for a ghost. He went out of his hiding place, thinking of a way to communicate with Merlin and realised he wasn't alone in the room. Merlin was sitting on the bed, cradling a very old-looking book in one arm. With his free hand, he gently caressed the pages. He looked at them as if they were the most precious things in the entire universe. He smiled at the words then closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were filled with so much grief that something in Arthur's chest tightened. Feeling he was intruding upon a very private moment, he vanished into the closet.

The next day was Saturday, which meant that Merlin didn't have to wake up in the wee hours of the morning to go to work, whatever said work was. Yet the tenant left at dawn. Arthur took this opportunity to explore the house. As he'd never been interested in getting to know Merlin until then, Arthur had spent most of his time in the closet and tried not to register the horrible place that had become his house. He took some time examining the plethora of ornaments in those two rooms, hoping they could tell him more about who, or what, exactly Merlin was but the only thing he learned was that the man had very eclectic tastes in art both from a time and place of origin point of view. Then he visited the second room, which only contained piles of boxes. How a man barely in his mid-twenties had managed to hoard so many possessions was beyond Arthur's understanding. So when he entered the last room, his mind was blown away.

It was a library, there was no other word for it. Shelves filled the entire space except for a narrow path leading to a desk and a chair under the window. An antique library, too. The volumes were all old-fashioned leather-bound, with varying degrees of decoration. There were plain covers, covers with metal clasps, jewelled covers. Arthur carefully opened one and was amazed to discover an illuminated manuscript in a language he didn't understand. He leafed through it for a moment. A lot of the images were skeletons, he noticed, or people that definitely looked dead.  As he put the book back on the shelf, he wondered if that should worry him.

Arthur was not bibliophile, yet he was fascinated by the sight of these centuries-old books. He spent hours browsing the shelves, opening books, trying to decipher what they were about or when they had been made and failing most of the time. He found a few printed ones too, but they were almost as old-looking as the others. They seemed to be classified by theme, if Arthur went by the images. There was, amongst others, a section about plants, one about all sorts of strange creatures and, of course, the one with all the skeletons and dead bodies. Arthur didn't know what to think of it.  He knew nothing about the sorts of powers Merlin had. He wasn't very keen on discovering it was some sort of dark magic. On the other hand, wasn't someone interested in necromancy the perfect person to give Arthur the answers he sought? Anyway, Arthur was dazzled by the collection. He wondered how much it was worth. There were hundreds of books, maybe more than a thousand. If they truly were originals, they must be worth a fortune. How could Merlin own so much? And weren't you supposed to keep old books in a conditioned environment?  Or maybe Merlin's powers took care of that.

He couldn't reflect much longer on the question because Merlin entered the room, still wearing his coat and shoes, a parcel wrapped in Kraft-paper in his hands. He put the parcel on the desk, hurried out of his coat and tore the paper apart. It revealed a book, old but plain with simple clasps. Merlin opened it and began to read. Arthur looked over his shoulder. The text was manuscript and in a language he couldn't recognise yet Merlin seemed to read it as if it were modern English. Arthur contented himself with looking at the illustrations. Again most of them were skeletons, Arthur wondered if that explained why the man didn't seem fazed by the presence of a ghost in his house.

"Can you read middle-English, Mr Spooky?" Merlin suddenly asked.

Arthur startled. He'd never been addressed directly. Not since his death. He stared at Merlin with wide eyes, too staggered to find a way to answer.

"Or are you a Mrs Spooky?" the tenant continued. "I'm Merlin, by the way. But you've probably already figured it out from the mail or something."

The man took a notebook and a pen from the desk drawer and put them on the corner of the desk. "Here. What's your name?"

The ghost stared at the paper. Not only did Merlin sense his presence, he actually wanted to communicate. It felt surreal. Even more so than the kitchen cleaning itself. The ghost's hand trembled when he took the pen.

 _Arthur_ , he wrote. Merlin stiffened. His face turned so pale Arthur feared he might collapse.

"Do-Do you mind if I keep Mr Spooky?"

The ghost wanted to answer that yes, he minded because that was a ridiculous nickname yet Merlin seemed so distressed that Arthur didn't dare protest. Besides, someone was actually willing to have a conversation with him for the first time in four years so names didn't matter that much as long as they weren't offensive.

_No._

"Good," Merlin said, slowly regaining his composure. “Look, it seems you don’t like my being here and really I can understand that you don’t like to share your house with a stranger and everything but… I need a cheap place to stay and well, thanks to you, this place fits my needs perfectly so... Maybe we could find an arrangement?”

Arthur stared, unable to answer. This whole thing was surreal. People ran away screaming when they noticed him, they didn’t offer to find a way to live together.

_You’re not afraid of me._

"Nah. I've met ghosts before and their tricks weren't always as harmless as yours. "

_You don't know what I have in mind._

"In my experience, if you were the harmful kind I would have known by now."

That was true, of course, but Arthur still didn't know what to think of his new tenant. As excited as the ghost was to have someone to talk to, it was way too early to let his guard down. He also realised what Merlin had said about the place being cheap. It didn’t make sense when the man had so many precious books. Or was Merlin a thief? The idea to let such a man in his house revolted him. He wasn't sure even his need for company could overcome that.

“So? What do you say about my offer? We don’t even need to talk if you don’t want to. You can just ignore me and mind your own business while I mind mine. What matters is that we find a way to get along. What do you think?”

_It’d be hard to ignore you when the house’s filled with your stuff. Ugly stuff._

Merlin chuckled. “I heard that before. But you can’t ask me to get rid of all my souvenirs, can you?”

Oh. Arthur had never thought about it that way. He felt a bit hypocritical suddenly because how many times had he missed simple objects he used to have before his parents had to empty the house? His favourite armchair, the ridiculous mug his best friend had given him for his birthday. As much as he found Merlin's stuff ugly, he couldn't ask him to throw it away.

_Okay. But you're sleeping in my room._

"Is that your special place?"

So Merlin did know other ghosts. Arthur bit his lip. He would not let himself be too excited. Nothing proved him Merlin wasn't after him for an experiment or something equally unpleasant.

As Arthur’s mind turned away from the pen he was holding, it fell on the table with a faint clack. The ghost cursed. He seized it to write his answer and put it back on the table.

_Yes._

"I think I can do something about that, then. If I take the boxes out of the other room, I could take my stuff there. Then you'd have your room all for yourself. Is that alright for you?"

Arthur hesitated. It would be so easy to push Merlin away, to settle for nothing less than an empty house. But would it make him happier? Wasn’t Merlin’s arrival a perfect occasion to finally put an end to his loneliness? Wasn’t it worth the effort?

_Yes._

“Great. So no more tricks?”

_Promise._

“Good. I’m sure we’ll find a way to make this work. Now, if you don't mind, I've been waiting for this book for years."

With that, Merlin turned to his books and was soon lost to the world. Arthur watched him for a while, as if it could tell him more about his tenant and prove his distrust wrong. It didn’t, of course, and the more Arthur looked at the book Merlin had probably stolen, the more he feared he might have made a terrible mistake by accepting this deal. In the end, he transposed into the closet and resolved to stay cautious but stop worrying. Only time would tell if he’d made the right choice.

***

Merlin didn't leave the room before long after dawn the next morning, a defeated look on his face. After a few hours of rest, he kept his word. The boxes in the third room were shrunken to fit into a sports bag, thanks to Merlin's powers. Then the horrible bed along with the wardrobe, the lacquered screen and a medieval tapestry Arthur had failed to notice until then, were transported into the room.

It was a relief for Arthur to find his safe place empty again. So much so that he didn’t leave until the next afternoon. Merlin had just come back from work and sat in the kitchen with his usual blueberry muffin. Arthur transposed on the chair opposite him, feeling calmer than ever since Merlin's arrival. He might as well try and learn more about his tenant, he decided. Then he noticed he had nothing to write on. With a curse, he transposed into the library to take the notebook and pen he'd used before and had to walk downstairs as his ability to change location by thought didn't apply to the objects he was holding. As he entered the kitchen, though, the notebook and the pen went through his hands and fell on the ground. That happened sometimes when he held things for too long or wasn't concentrated enough.  He picked them up and sat next to Merlin. 

_You have powers_ , he wrote.

"Good afternoon, Mr Spooky. I'm fine. Had a great day, thanks for asking."

Arthur groaned. And groaned again when he realised he had no mean of conveying his frustration through writing. As no answer came, Merlin continued.

"Alright. I guess ghosts don't care about small-talk. I have magic, yes."

_How?_

Merlin shrugged. "I was born with it."

_What can you do?_

"Err... A lot of things, actually. You've already seen it's quite handy for the housework. And I can do that."

Merlin's eyes turned gold but nothing happened. Arthur scanned the room, thinking he had missed it, when something warm on his wrist startled him. It was like a ribbon slowly wrapping itself around his skin. A gentle caress. A shiver ran along his spine. It wasn't the human touch he craved for yet it was so close, he needed all his self-control not to ask Merlin to do it again once the sensation disappeared.

"Did you feel it?"

_Yes._

"That's why I know you're here, because of my magic. I can sense your presence."

Oh so that was what Arthur felt whenever Merlin was around.

 _You'll know that it tingles and it's deeply annoying._  
                 
Merlin laughed. "A bit grumpy, are you?"

Arthur chose not to answer. He was only trying to discover more about his tenant to know if he could trust him, not to be friends with him.

_Are there many like you?_

Merlin's face straightened, all trace of laughter vanished. He remained silent for a while, shoulders slumped, staring at the table. When finally he answered, his voice was weak.

"Not anymore. There used to be, long ago. Now I'm alone."

Arthur recognised the loneliness in Merlin's eyes. After four years of existing in the world without being able to take any part in it, he knew what loneliness meant. Yet, he felt he could never grasp the deep, raw ache he saw in Merlin's eyes. He seemed much older than his mid-twenties suddenly and so fragile. It was hard to believe he was the same man Arthur was afraid of because he owned entire bookshelves dedicated to something resembling necromancy. But Arthur refused to lower his guard so easily.

"Sorry, I-I have a lot of things to do."

And with that, Merlin went out of the kitchen, leaving his muffin half eaten.

***

Arthur was so afraid he might have said something wrong that he stayed in his room until the next evening. It was strange to talk to someone after all this time. He wasn't sure how to do it anymore and he'd never been good with words to begin with. The fact that so much was at stake didn't help. He couldn't bear to lose Merlin, not before he determined if he could trust him at least. Knowing that his presence was noticed was overwhelming too. Arthur was so used to go undetected. He felt safer in his room for now.

That way, he would never learn more about Merlin though. So he forced himself to go out and found Merlin watching telly in the living-room. Watching telly was something Arthur missed when no one lived in the house. He could always go to the neighbours', of course, but he quickly felt uncomfortable away from home. So he sat on the sofa next to Merlin, only to realise that the channel was in a language he didn't understand. Was that Italian? He couldn't tell. He found an envelope and a pen on the Victorian coffee-table and wrote: _Mind switching to English?_

"No problem." Merlin flipped through a few channels before settling on some Doctor Who rerun. "Is that alright?"

_Yes. Thanks._

Merlin watched religiously. Eyes glued to the screen, he muttered the dialogues, making Arthur wonder how many times he’d seen that episode. The ghost, though, was more preoccupied by the fact that, having not seen the series for years, he didn’t understand a thing.

 _Who's that girl?_ he finally wrote before waving the notebook in front of Merlin’s face to make him notice. That earned him a groan.

"That's Clara, the new companion," he mumbled, his eyes quickly back on the screen.

_What happened to Donna?_

That was finally enough to catch Merlin’s attention. He turned wide eyes to the ghost, who suddenly felt like the dumbest person on Earth. It was funny to think that Merlin was more shocked by his lack of Doctor Who knowledge than by his being a ghost, though. "That was 3 series ago."

_Didn't have much access to the telly._

"Oh, right. But wait, you haven't seen the end of the fourth series?"

_No._

"You _have_ to! I have all the DVDs!"

With that, Merlin rushed to the TV stand and produced an entire box set. And that's how they began watching two episodes every evening until Saturday where they marathoned to the end of the series. It was nice to spend some quiet time with Merlin, Arthur realised. An empty house was comfortable but he had to admit it was also lonely. They didn’t talk much and that was good too. Besides, Merlin was a good person to watch things with. He giggled like a loon at every joke even though he'd probably seen each episode countless times. He made scarce but funny comments. And his overall enthusiasm was communicative.

With all these good spirits, it was a surprise that the finale and Donna's departure led to an insane amount of crying on Merlin's part. Arthur couldn't blame him, though, as he might have a tear or two in his eyes. Not that he would ever admit it. Being invisible had good sides sometimes.

 _You alright?_ Arthur asked as Merlin's tears were still flowing.

"Yeah, sorry. Parting stories always get me." He wiped his cheek with his palm and continued: "It was good, wasn't?"

_Very._

"You know, if you want to watch the rest or anything I have, you can."

_Watched a few of your DVDs already._

Merlin managed a weak smile. "I guessed as much. Next time's your turn to choose what we watch."

_Alright._

"Great. Now I guess I should get some sleep. Have a good night."

_You too._

Arthur transposed into his room and picked up the novel he'd borrowed from Merlin, because fortunately the man also owned modern books, though Arthur had no idea where he stored them and assumed magic was involved there. He listened absentmindedly to Merlin going through his bed routine. He heard him toss and turn for a while after that. It lasted almost an hour before Merlin gave up and went out of his room.

Arthur figured he might as well keep the man company so he met him in the kitchen. There was a notebook on the table; Merlin had scattered several of them everywhere in the house during the past week.  Arthur wrote: _Can't sleep?_

"Nope."

Merlin made some tea, then he sat down and cradled his mug in his hands. He remained silent for a while, staring at the liquid. His eyes were red. He looked so tired it was a wonder he didn't fall asleep where he was sitting.

"How old are you, Mr Spooky?" Merlin finally asked. "It's hard to tell without seeing you."

_Do years as a ghost count?_

"Um yeah, I guess."

_32_

“So young,” Merlin muttered. His gaze dropped to his tea again. There was sadness in his eyes and his shoulders seemed heavy. Arthur wondered what could possible make someone in his mid-twenties look so old. And if they didn’t know each other enough for him to ask, he could at least try and take his mind off it.

 _You never have anyone around,_ he finally wrote. _It’s not because of me, is it?_

“Oh, no. You made a promise, I trust you’ll keep it. It’s just… I’ve um… Just come to London so I don’t really know many people yet.”

_ Where do you come from? _

“A small village. You wouldn’t have heard of it. But my life’s not that interesting. Do you mind talking about yours?”

Arthur did. He didn’t want to think about Before. When he still had hope and possibilities but never took them. He didn’t want Merlin to know what a coward and a loser he’d been. But he didn’t want the conversation to end either. 

_Not really._

"Where did you work?"

The pen hovered over the page while Arthur’s raced to build himself a life. _I was an engineer. I designed satellites._

Merlin let out an appreciative whistle. "Nice."

_Yeah. It was hard work but then, when I saw the satellites ready to be sent in space it was magic, you know. I had the feeling to be part of something important._

The sorcerer looked at Arthur with eyes filled with wonder. Embarrassed, the ghost averted his gaze. "That's amazing! So the things you designed are still out there?"

_Yeah. Hopefully they'll still be for years._

Merlin grinned. "I'll remember that next time I watch the sky."

_You can't actually see them, you know._

"Of course I know, you idiot! I just thought... It's nice to know there's a part of you up there."

Arthur's throat tightened. He shouldn't have told this. There was a reason why he had buried all thoughts of his past deep inside him, never to think about it again. Because that was it. That was his contribution to the world. The only thing he could do now was scare people away. Except when they weren't afraid. But how many people like Merlin would he meet? People who thought it was perfectly normal to have a conversation with the ghost that haunted their house? He would consider himself lucky if he only met one.

 _Yeah,_ he managed to answer.

"Spooky... How did you die? If you don't mind me asking."

_Don't want to talk about it._

“Sorry.”

Silence settled after that as Arthur tried and failed to find something to say that didn’t involve his and Merlin’s life. In the end, the man finished his tea and went back to bed.

***

Days turned into weeks that turned into months. Arthur slowly got used to Merlin’s presence. It helped that they didn’t talk much. Sometimes they would sit together on the sofa to watch telly or the ghost would ask Merlin for a book, a modern one, since he still hadn’t figured out where the man kept them and suspected magic was involved.

Then there were the days when every little things Merlin did irked Arthur. The way he scattered dirty plates in the house (and Arthur couldn't fathom why since a few strange words would have cleaned them and put them away). Or the way he whistled classic airs when he cooked. Or his fondness for associating three different plaids. Or simply the tingling on Arthur's skin whenever Merlin was around. In these moments, Arthur would only feel good in his room. He would stay there for days, cursing himself for ever thinking it was a good idea to let someone live in his house, even though he doubted Merlin would have left if he’d asked him to.

When Arthur came out from his extended stays in his safe place, Merlin never inquired about it. The ghost was grateful for that. He had gotten used to do what he wanted without having to justify himself or caring what people thought or felt. At the same time, this freedom was strange now that he lived with someone who could sense him. They could spend a week without talking to each other. And sometimes it felt as if they both lived without being aware of each other’s existence. This arrangement wasn’t truly uncomfortable. Arthur felt safe. It was the existence he’d been used to without the constant fight to scare people away. He could go on like this, he assumed, but he didn’t want to. This wasn’t so far from the loneliness of the time before Merlin. This existence was safe and easy but he’d already let that ruin his life and he didn’t want to do the same with this non-life.

Arthur wasn’t sure what to do, though. Most of the time, Merlin didn’t seem in the mood to talk and their conversation ended quickly. The ghost had been worried it was against him at first but after a few weeks, he had realised it was just the way Merlin was. His pastimes all consisted of activities he could do alone. The man didn't seem to have anyone else in his life apart from his colleagues, with whom he seemed to have a friendly relationship and went to the pub every now and then but whom he never invited to his place. Sometimes, he would sit on the sofa and stare into space for hours without a move. Or he would take one of his ridiculous trinkets and stroke it mindlessly, a sad smile on his lips. He also spent a great amount of time with the old book he kept in his bedside table. Arthur wasn't sure why since half of the time Merlin ended up in tears. And the ghost couldn't tell if the feeling in his guts in these moments was sadness or pity.

On the weekends, Merlin sometimes spent an entire day in the library room. It was easy for Arthur to forget that room and to put his concerns about the way the books had been acquired at the back of his mind. It all came back when Merlin disappeared in there, along with the ghost’s distrust towards Merlin’s preferred field of study. With anyone else, those facts would have doubled Arthur's desire to get rid of him. Coming from Merlin, it only led to complicated, ambivalent feelings. There was a lot of mystery around the sorcerer since he never talked about himself but at the same time, he seemed so harmless Arthur tended to forget his distrust. Besides, the ghost wasn’t ready to push away the only person he could talk to.

It was during one of these days Merlin spent in the library that the noise began.

_Clac clac clac_

Arthur sighed. The clicking had been going for an eternity now, drumming in his head. If he could still have headaches it would be a massive one. Useless to say he had trouble concentrating on the book he was reading.

_Clac clac clac ding_

The ghost gave up when he realised he'd just read the same line 10 times. Also, the noise sounded suspiciously like a typewriter and he needed to know if Merlin really was _that_ old-fashioned. He marked the page then transposed to the library.

Sure enough, Merlin was sitting at his desk, hammering on an antique typewriter. Not even the electric type, no it was one of these monsters of metal probably weighing several dozen pounds.

_What's that?_

"A typewriter. Surely you're not young enough not to recognise one."

_I know that. What are you doing with it?_

"Um, typing a letter?"

_Come on. Who’s still using them?_

Merlin dropped his gaze on his hands. A slight flush appeared on his cheeks. “Well, me, apparently.”

_God, tell me you’re not one of those snobs who think technology is evil._

“Um, I’m not?”

_Then why?_

Still looking at his hands, Merlin mumbled something Arthur couldn’t understand.

_What?_

“I can’t use a computer, alright?”

Arthur gaped. _Didn’t you like… grew up with a computer?_

“I’m older than I look.”

_Come on you can’t be older than me._

“You’d be surprised.”

Merlin’s tone was cold and the ghost understood he’d better not inquire further despite his curiosity. After a minute of silence, the sorcerer went back to typing.

_You could have taken a course._

The sorcerer shrugged. “Typewriters work fine for me.”

Arthur wanted to point out that the clicking of keyboards was much more discreet than that of typewriters but he had to admit that was selfish.  Instead, he wrote: _No need to type the whole page again when you make a mistake._

"Who's said I have to? My magic works well for that."

_But there are so many things you can do with a computer._

Merlin stopped typing and looked at his hands again. “I’m not really sure, I mean… I heard about this thing where you can send someone at the other side of the world a letter and they receive it at once and it's amazing, really, but... I don't know anyone who lives at the other side of the world. I don't see why I would need a computer.”

The ghost gaped. He’d met people without any knowledge about technology before but never so young or not without a tirade about how internet was destroying culture, independent stores and social interactions. Merlin was definitely an odd duck.

_You know there’s more to it, right?_

The sorcerer rolled his eyes. “Are you trying to make fun of me? Just because I can’t use a computer doesn’t mean I’m dumb.”

_I know that. I’m only surprised. Isn’t it hard to find a job?_

“I manage just fine, thank you.”

_But-_

“Look,” Merlin said before Arthur could finish writing, “I’m not against technology. It does seem fascinating and magical and everything but it’s so far from what I grew up into that I don’t understand a thing about it. And as long as I manage like that, I don’t see why it should change.”

It seemed so strange to Arthur that someone as young as Merlin – because despite what the sorcerer said, he couldn’t be _that_ old – had given up so quickly. He could accept his decision, of course, it was Merlin’s choice but at the same time, it was sad to see someone deliberately shut himself off such an important part of everyday life because he felt he would never understand. And as much as Merlin tried to ignore it, it couldn’t go on forever either, seeing how technology took a bigger place in people’s life every year. Arthur didn’t want him to be left on this side of the road just because of that. He might not know the sorcerer well – in fact, this conversation was probably the longest they’d ever had – but he wanted to help him. Maybe because he liked Merlin. Maybe because he didn’t want anyone to waste their life the way he had. Maybe simply because that would give them a reason to spend time together.

Insisting wouldn’t help, though. Merlin was irritated enough. Arthur needed to make him see the benefit he would get from learning to use a computer, a benefit he couldn’t get without it. The ghost looked at the books around him and knew he had his argument.

Merlin clicked his tongue when he saw the pen move but his irritation vanished, replaced by a frown, when he read: _You can find all sorts of old books on the internet, you know._

"What do you mean?"

_Some libraries have taken pictures of every page of their books and you can find them on the internet._

"Foreign libraries?"

_Yes._

"And I could read those books without leaving the house?"

_Exactly._

Arthur could see the sparkles lightning in Merlin’s eyes as they talked.

“It’s magic!”

The ghost smiled at his tenant enthusiasm but then the man’s face fell.

“I don’t have money to pay for lessons.”

_I could teach you._

“You’d do that?”

_Of course. And I’ll help you chose a cheap computer._

 “Are you sure?” Merlin asked with a shy smile. “Because I’ll probably drive you mad.”

_Don’t worry about that._

Merlin’s smile grew brighter. He went back to typing and Arthur transposed into the living-room where he found the noise wasn't as loud and he could read.

They didn’t talk for the rest of the day. It was just the way it was between them. They would talk a bit, maybe watch the telly together, but as soon as the conversation or the film was over, they would go back to their own business as if the other wasn’t there. Arthur was grateful, in a way, because after living alone for years, he valued his privacy and alone time. Yet for the same reason, he craved company. He was tired of being invisible and the easiness with which Merlin fell into ignoring him was frustrating. It made the ghost wonder too, about Merlin’s life and just how used he was to shut himself off. Anyway, Arthur realised if he wanted to become friends with the sorcerer, he would have to make the first step. So later, when Merlin sat at in the kitchen for dinner, Arthur sat with him.

 _Looks delicious,_ he wrote, eyeing the plate of lasagne on the table.

 

“Oh um, thank you." Merlin took a mouthful then frowned. “Isn't it frustrating? I mean… you can’t eat."

 

_It was at first. Now I’m used to it. I’m never hungry anyway._

“Sure? Because if I do something that’s bothering or something, tell me, alright?”

_Yes. Thanks._

Merlin ate in silence for a while as Arthur watched. The ghost remembered the time when he would disturb every single meal his tenants had because he craved a food he couldn’t eat. A food he didn’t even need. But it was just one of these things that made him feel so far from human and he couldn’t accept it. He wanted to eat with them, whatever it was, even if it didn’t look appetizing, it didn’t matter. He wanted to eat to be normal again. And if he couldn’t then his tenants shouldn’t either. Arthur had come a long way since that time.

“How long have you been…?” Merlin suddenly asked.

_Dead? 4 years._

“Oh.”

Arthur didn’t miss Merlin’s widening eyes but didn’t dare ask why he was surprised. As much as he craved information about what he was, he wasn’t sure he was ready for them yet. He wondered if he would ever be.

“It must be lonely,” the sorcerer went on after a pause.

_It is._

Arthur didn’t like the sadness in Merlin’s eyes. He didn’t want pity. He took the opportunity of Merlin’s silence to change the subject.

_Want to watch a film tonight?_

“Why not? You have something in mind?”

_Your turn to choose._

Later, when Arthur would see the opening title of a rom com appear on the screen, he would remember why he had decided not to let Merlin choose what they watched if he could help it. For now, though, he was just happy to have diverted the conversation away from himself and to make small talk until the sorcerer finished eating.

***

A few days later, Merlin bought the laptop Arthur had chosen in a catalogue and his internet connexion was settled. That's how weekly computer lessons became part of their routine. Merlin was a painfully slow learner and more than once Arthur was close to losing his patience but the amazement in the sorcerer's eyes, almost childlike, whenever he faced the screen made Arthur take it on the chin. In these moments, he wondered how he’d never noticed just how beautiful Merlin’s eyes were and quickly dismissed the thought. Going there was not an option.

What Merlin marvelled at the most were the manuscripts. It took him some time to find out how the catalogues worked, something Arthur couldn't help him with since he'd never entered a library, but then he was so fascinated by how easy it was to read all these centuries-old lines that he could stay hours behind the screen. Much to Arthur's dismay since Merlin refused to touch the laptop without the ghost at his side.

It was nice to spend more time with Merlin, though. Slowly, the sorcerer opened up. They talked more, about everything, from films to books and history. Merlin loved history and had such knowledge of it Arthur couldn’t believe him when he said he had never studied it. Not that Arthur minded. Merlin was a very interesting person to listen to.

And caring too, as Arthur discovered one day.

The ghost was reading in his room when he heard a knock on his door. Merlin entered a few seconds later, carrying a book close to his chest.

“Hi… Um… You don’t mind me being here, do you?”

_No. Come in._

Merlin did so and sat on the floor next to the ghost. He handed him the book – which wasn’t a book but an Ikea catalogue.

“I thought you might be tired to live in an empty room. You can just circle what you want and I’ll get it.”

Arthur felt something warm in his chest. Merlin had often expressed his wish to do what he could to make the ghost’s existence easier, but this was a whole new level. Merlin might have a strange obsession with necromancy and Doctor Who but he was a good person. Arthur wasn't sure why he'd been so distrustful at first. He'd have to have a conversation with Merlin about the content of the library one day and Arthur was still upset at the idea of living with a thief. Apart from that, though, Merlin seemed harmless. Surely, if he wanted anything from Arthur, he'd made it known by now. Or maybe it was all an act to gain the ghost's trust but somehow, Arthur didn't believe it. In his excitement to finally have found a friend, he was ready to throw all caution away.

Eyeing the catalogue, Arthur felt guilty, though. Objectively, he didn't need any of this. He didn't have clothes or any other possessions so what would he do with a wardrobe? He didn't need a bed either as he didn't sleep. As a matter of fact, he didn't need any piece of furniture since he only floated above them out of habit. Standing all day long just seemed weird. And despite the many languages Merlin could speak (in addition to Middle-English and Italian, Arthur had caught him watch the telly in French, Spanish and German and was pretty sure he could read all the old languages his ancient books were in), his job, whatever it was, didn't bring him much money. Arthur appreciated the gesture but he couldn't spend Merlin's money on useless things.

_Thanks but I don't need anything. Keep your money._

"Don't worry about the money. I have some savings, it's alright."

_I'm a ghost remember? I don't sleep. I don't have anything to store._

"And you can only touch things when you concentrate on them. I know that. That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to live comfortably. This room's your safe place. You spend a lot of time here. Wouldn’t it be cosier if it wasn’t empty?"

_The house's been empty for months before you arrived and I managed. I don't need any of this._

"Look. People don't _need_ paintings or candles or flowers but they buy them anyway because they're pretty and they make them feel home. Now I live in your house and filled it with my stuff and all you have left is that room so the least I can do is to help you feel home in there." He pushed the catalogue to where Arthur was sitting. "Please, have a look."

Merlin looked at him with his big, blue eyes and his best smile. He seemed so keen on doing something for Arthur, the ghost felt a refusal would break his heart. And he had to admit it would be great to feel at home in his room again. He took the catalogue.

They decorated the next week-end. Arthur had selected only cheap items. A simple armchair, a fancy yet affordable floor lamp and plain curtains. He also asked Merlin to store his novels, the ones he suspected to have been magically shrunken, in his room to fill the space. Of course, that meant he'd had to buy bookcases that he was now trying, and failing, to assemble.

Arthur stared in disbelief at the screws and the wooden panels scattered on the floor then at Merlin contemplating the manual. _Can't you use magic?_ he wrote. But Merlin was too concentrated on his task to notice. Arthur took the instructions from his hands and replaced them by his brand new notebook decorated with a monkey (because, of course, Merlin hadn't resisted buying tons of things that weren't on his list). Merlin startled then read the question.

"I could but only to move things around. Magic can't understand the instructions for me."

Arthur rolled his eyes. It couldn't be that complicated. He wrote so, earning a groan from Merlin. "Well then help me!"

The ghost tried. He actually understood the manual in a few minutes. Only, explaining what to do by writing it proved to be more difficult than he'd thought. And he couldn't hold things long enough to assemble the bookcase by himself.

In the end, after two hours and a lot of shouting and insults from Arthur, which hopefully Merlin couldn't hear, the two bookcases were put up.

_Finally!! I've never met someone so clumsy._

"Oi!"

_I hope you don't do anything manual in your job._

"I work in a coffee shop."

_How many cups do you break?_

"Well, then maybe I should let you put up the rest," Merlin said with a smirk. Arthur gasped.

_That's low!_

Merlin grinned. With a few strange words, he made books appear on the shelves. Then the curtains were hung and the lamp put up in the same manner. The armchair required some assembling but it wasn't as laborious as it had been for the bookcases. Once the armchair put up, a fuzzy lilac throw along with a cushion decorated with owls that could have been drawn by a 3-year-old appeared on it. Arthur winced.

_What's that?_

"Don't you like it? I thought it could bring some life to the room." Realising what he'd said, Merlin put a hand on his mouth. "Sorry! I didn't mean to be rude! I... It's an expression."

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle at the horrified look on Merlin's face. _No harm done._

Merlin smiled tentatively. "So um... Do you like it?"

Arthur really wanted to be honest and say no. But Merlin's hopeful face got him. _Yes_ , he wrote with a sigh.


	2. Chapter 2

“Look! I won something!” Merlin exclaimed, pointing at the screen.

Arthur sighed. He explained at least a dozen time things like viruses, phishing and fake contests but apparently, Merlin still didn’t get it. He wouldn’t dare click on anything for a while, asking Arthur every time, then the next day he would have forgotten about it. The most memorable moment being when a porn ad had appeared and Merlin had freaked out thinking the naked girl was actually talking to him.

_It’s fake._

“What? How can you tell?”

_Because everyone knows._

“Why are they still doing it, then?”

_In case, someone missed the memo._

Merlin rubbed a hand on his face. “Gods, I’m too old for this.”

_Stop saying that. You’re not even 30._

“Told you already, I’m much older than that.”

This mystery, again. Arthur wondered if that was something Merlin said no to look stupid when he was with young people and completely out of his depth because he led such a sheltered life. The ghost didn’t see what else it could be. But then again, he’d never thought ghosts or magic were real before he witnessed both of them.

Merlin soon turned off his computer, declaring he was going to do something more sensible and walked downstairs to pick up the book he’d let on the sofa. Arthur followed him. He was curious now. What if Merlin wasn’t lying? How much older could he be?

_When you say you’re older than you look,_ he wrote but Merlin didn’t notice, already engrossed in his book. Arthur poked at his arm with the pen. The man glanced at the paper.

“Yes?”

_How much?_

“I’m not sure…”

_I’m a ghost, I live with a sorcerer. I’m not exactly unaware of the supernatural._

Merlin sighed. He closed his book and stared at the cover, stroking it absentmindedly. “Let’s say I’m at least old enough to have seen the first wold war.”

_At least?_

“You won’t get anything more precise.”

A hundred. Merlin was at least a hundred years old and probably even older than that if his reluctance to give more details was to go by. Yet he looked mid-twenties. Whatever Arthur had said about being used to the supernatural, he was gobsmacked.

_How does that work?_

“I don’t know,” Merlin answered with a shrug. His eyes hadn’t left the book. “I don’t age. I… I can’t die.”

Arthur wasn’t keen to know how the sorcerer had made that last observation.

_Is it because of your magic?_

“Probably.”

Arthur wondered what it was like to have such a long life and still look young. To know that no matter what happened, you couldn’t die. It seemed to have all the advantages of being a ghost without its downsides. Having the time to do everything you wanted to without worrying for your safety. When Arthur looked at Merlin, though, he realised it wasn’t quite as perfect as he imagined. The sorcerer wasn’t travelling the world, he wasn’t achieving his dream job or taking the opportunity to devote himself to one of his passions. He was, in fact, barely living at all.

_How does it feel?_

“It’s long. And lonely.”

_I can imagine._

“I guess you can, somehow. It’s strange you’re still here.”

Arthur froze. He didn’t know what was more overwhelming: that Merlin had knowledge about ghost or that he was apparently an oddity. Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to know more, too afraid of what he might discover. But then he remembered all the questions he'd shouted at an empty room, all the gods he'd cursed, the experiments he'd done to know how far he could go from the house and for how long before feeling dizzy. All the times he'd wondered what would happen if he didn't go back but never dared to try, just in case it was worse than what he had. He needed answers.

_So you met other ghost?_

“I have.”

_Were they all like me?_

“You’re all different, really. Some of you can hold things without thinking about it, some can't no matter how hard they concentrate. Some can be heard, most can't. I even met a few who looked just like anyone until you tried to touch them and went through them. Some are connected to one place, like you, or –“

_How do you know?_

"You never leave the house. I just assumed you couldn't.”

Merlin wasn’t bluffing, he really had some knowledge. After all this time shouting question at empty air, the possibility of an answer was overwhelming.

_Some of us can go where they want?_

“Yes. Though you all have a special connexion to the place you died.”

Arthur took a moment to collect himself. There were many questions more important that what he’d asked until now. He wanted to know what happened to the others if it was odd that he was still there. And more importantly, _why_ he was still there. Yet he didn’t dare write them. He settled for something else, something important but slightly less frightening.

_What happens if the house is demolished?_

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Disappointment surged through the ghost. He had forgotten Merlin might not be able to answer everything. He supposed he would figure it out someday, if he remained long enough. That led him to another question. The one he’d been wanting to ask all along but still couldn’t bring himself to.  
Merlin’s eyes alternated between the pen and the point he assumed Arthur’s face was. He waited for a while and when nothing came, he turned back to his book. He had read two chapters before Arthur finally wrote another question and slipped the paper on the page Merlin was reading.

_You were surprised I’ve been here for 4 years._

“Yeah. Ghosts don’t usually stay that long,” the sorcerer answered, taking the paper out of the book before closing it.  
 _What happens to them?_

“I’m not entirely sure. I guess they go to the other world to rest in peace. That’s how I chose to see it, anyway.”

_But how?_

And why not him? What had Arthur done wrong to be denied passage? He’d always assumed he’d be there forever.

“It happens when they’ve achieved what they were kept here for.”

_You mean that unachieved business bullshit?_

"Something like that.”

_You’re kidding me._

“I’m not!”

_That’s something people came up in their stories. That’s not real!_

“It is! I’ve seen it!”

Arthur rolled his eyes. He’d thought Merlin was honest with him but obviously he’d been wrong. This was ridiculous. He didn’t want to believe him. Yet he couldn’t help but write: _Do tell._

“I was a nurse during the war. I met a soldier who died from his wounds a few days after he'd learned his wife had given birth to their son. When I treated him, he'd always tell me he'd survive because he had to see his child. I was there when he died. I couldn't talk to him afterwards, but I know he turned into a ghost. I’ve always assumed he found his son."

_How do you know it’s not a coincidence?_

“It’s not the only story I have. I’ve seen a noble lady come back to destroy her brother’s, who was also her murderer, plan to kill her son in order to inherit her fortune. And-“

_Right, I got the message,_ Arthur interrupted. He didn’t need to hear more stories about those lucky ghosts who had a purpose.

“I assume if you don’t believe me, you don’t have anything similar you couldn’t do while you were alive?”

Of course, there was. So much. Lead a meaningful life and stop being a failure, for a first. Have a decent job. Go to all these places he’d dreamt of seeing but never could because he didn’t have the money. But that was hardly uncommon. Surely if that was enough to turn someone into a ghost then the planet must swarm with them. And anyway, there was nothing he could do about it now that he was dead.

_No._

“Maybe you’re simply not aware of it. Maybe you still have a role to play in this world.”

_Are you talking about destiny?_

“Yes.”

_You’re mad._

Merlin shrugged, as if he’d heard that so many times the insult couldn’t get him. His sheer confidence grated on Arthur’s nerves. It didn’t make any sense. If he still had something to do in this world, then why was he dead in the first place? And how exactly could he take part in anything when he was an invisible ghost? That didn't make any sense. Also, if something was meant for him, it would surely have happened by now.

He transposed into his room. It was all too much. After years of interrogation, Arthur was simply not ready to hear any answer. The more he thought about it, the less he accepted it. He refused to believe in greater forces guiding his life, or non-life for that matter. He was the one in charge. As much as he was ashamed of his life, he was the one responsible for it. And his death was someone else's doing but it certainly hadn't been written in the stars.

After some time, once he had recovered from the shock, Arthur wondered what he'd expected. He knew very well what he'd feared: that he was still there for no reason at all. And he realised that his disgust at the idea of destiny was slightly contradictory. What else would he have preferred? A curse? Some kind of disease? That made as little sense as destiny. Yet he couldn't wrap his mind around Merlin's theory. Because if destiny existed then it seemed to have forgotten its plans for him and Arthur couldn't accept that. He couldn't accept to be stuck in this form forever. It wasn't as much that he wanted to die than that he wanted this tedious existence put to an end. There was only so much time he could remain invisible and alone, unable to have any sort impact on his environment before he went mad.

Short after his death, once his freaking out had calmed down a little, he had tried to see this existence as a second life. A chance to do everything he never could when he'd been alive. Being a ghost definitely had advantages: no responsibilities, no need to work, no need to pay for anything. But then, there was only so much one could do when one couldn't go out of his home for extended periods. Forget travelling around the world or sneaking in museum in the night. And without any possession, he was dependent on his tenants' and neighbours' choice of films and books for his entertainment. He might not feel the passing of time the same way he had when he was alive and often find himself losing hours without knowing how, it quickly became tedious. That added to the loneliness, the frustration to exist in the world without being able to take any part in it and the sensation of utter uselessness, being a ghost was far from a dream. And Arthur was tired of it. Merlin's arrival had brought a pleasant diversion, having someone to talk to again had brightened his spirits, yet it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

Several days had passed when Arthur was roused from his thoughts by Merlin's voice coming from the library, reciting spells. He transposed in the library where the tenant was studying a worn-out book. The image, this time, wasn't a skeleton but a man raising from a coffin. Arthur shuddered.

"Mr Spooky. It's been a while."

He made no other comment about Arthur’s disappearance or their last conversation and the ghost was grateful for it.

Merlin looked expectantly at the notebook as Arthur reflected on how to word his request. When nothing came, the sorcerer asked, "Is there something you wanted to tell me?"

_You're a necromancer, aren't you?_

"I wouldn't put it like that. Let's say I have an interest for a specific domain of necromancy. Why?"

_I was wondering…_ Arthur stopped. He had to find the perfect way to make his demand acceptable.

“I hope you don’t want me to bring someone back because I can’t.”

_I don't. I was wondering if you could do the opposite._

Merlin gasped. "You want me to send you beyond the veil?"

_Yes._

Arthur had had enough time to think about it. When he’d been alive, he’d spent years half-dead, going through the motions because he had to, because there was no other way. And now it was just the same and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it without going mad. This might be his only chance to put an end to it.

The sorcerer shook his head vigorously, horrified. "No. No, I can't!"

_Can't or won't?_

"You're here for a reason. I won't interfere."

_Please._

"No! You might think you don't have anything to do in this world but I don't. Something will happen one day and you'll understand."

Arthur clenched his jaw. _What if I missed my chance?_

"I'm sure you haven't."

_What if you're wrong?_

"I've seen it with my own eyes! I've seen a ghost save the life of the woman she loved and go through the veil after that. I know I'm right."

Arthur squeezed the pen in his hand. His writing was barely decipherable. _I've been here for years! Nothing happened! I'm tired of this!_

"Look," Merlin said, staring into where he assumed Arthur's eyes were, which was an inch too high, "I know what it feels like to wait for something that never happens."

Arthur shoved the notebook at his face. _You don't!_

Merlin put the notebook on the table and looked at Arthur again. "Believe me, I do. More than you think. I know what it feels like to think there's no point anymore. And I really wish I could help you.  But you're here for a reason. I won't mess with your destiny."

For a moment, Arthur was too affected by what the look on Merlin's face to react. The man looked so old. His eyes were full of grief and weariness. Arthur remembered what the sorcerer had said about having seen the war. Those were the eyes of someone who had seen death multiple times. Of someone who had lost friends and loved ones. And it seemed so odd on such a young face. In this moment, Arthur knew Merlin had downplayed it when he’d said he’d seen the First World War. He was much older than that. The ghost wondered how much more he’d seen. Then Arthur remembered why he was there and the spell was broken.

He transposed to Merlin's room. He figured the sorcerer wouldn't change his mind easily so he had to take drastic steps. He opened the drawer of the bedside table and took out the book it contained. He didn't even have to concentrate to touch it. Funny how determination could help.

He went back to the library. As soon as Merlin spotted the book, his eyes went wide.

"What are you doing?"

Arthur opened the book and grabbed a page. He didn't tear it up but pulled just enough to show his intention. With his both hands occupied, he couldn't write so he had to communicate in another way. Judging by the alarmed look on Merlin's face, the message had been received.

"Give me that book."

Arthur didn't react.

"I won't change my mind. Now, give me that book."

The ghost pulled harder on the page. Then suddenly, he felt Merlin's magic on his wrist. Only this time, it wasn't a gentle caress. It wrapped tightly and sunk into his skin as if it were covered in small teeth. Then the magic went up along his arm, all the way to his neck and squeezed. Now, Arthur might not need to breathe, the sensation was not pleasant for all that. Yet it wasn't as frightening as the look on Merlin's face. The tired, broken man was gone. Jaw clenched, he stood tall and strong, radiating power. His eyes were cold, menacing. "Give me the book or I'll make you regret not to be dead."

Arthur had no trouble believing him. He closed the book as carefully as he could with his wrist still tied up. Merlin walked to him and took the book. "You'd better not touch that again," he said, letting his magic squeeze at little tighter before making it disappear. Arthur sure wouldn't.

***

Arthur had been in his room for hours when there was a knock on the door. He was both disappointed that what might have been his only chance to end this painful half-existence had failed and shocked by Merlin's reaction. He had never given much thought about his magic since he used it scarcely and only for simple tasks like moving things around or cleaning. Now that he'd had a glimpse of Merlin's power, he understood how much he'd underestimated it.

"Can I come in?" Merlin asked softly.

Arthur didn't move. He wasn't keen on seeing Merlin right now but he knew he had no mean of avoiding him. The man entered and sat on the floor, next to the armchair above which Arthur was floating. He carried a notebook and a pen he put on the armrest.

"I'm sorry about before. I shouldn't have threatened you."

The ghost ignored him. He wasn't comfortable with Merlin so close. The tingling of his magic on his skin reminded him too much of what the sorcerer could do with his powers.

"Look, I don't want to harm you. I-This book's the most precious thing I have and... Well, I freaked out a little. I'm sorry."

As no answer came, Merlin hugged his knees and sighed. He looked fragile, so far from the mighty sorcerer Arthur had seen.

"Please, talk to me."

Merlin looked up with guilt-ridden eyes and Arthur felt his determination weaken.

_I guess I shouldn't have taken your book._

"No, you shouldn't have. But that doesn't mean what I did was ok."

He remained silent for a while then asked: "Are you angry at me?"

_Yes._

"Afraid?"

_Too._

Merlin sighed and rubbed his face. "That won't happen again. I promise. I'll never use my magic against you again."

Arthur didn't want his promises. He'd been wrong to trust him and wouldn't make the same mistake twice. Merlin waited a few long minutes for an answer. As it didn't come, he stood up. "I'm really sorry," he said. "I hope you can forgive me."

***

Weeks passed during which Arthur only left his room when Merlin was at work. Now that he knew what Merlin really was, he regretted being so soft and letting him stay in the naive hope to have found a friend and to learn more about his condition as a ghost. But then again, seeing how powerful Merlin was, Arthur would probably never have managed to make him leave. He didn't feel comfortable around him anymore. Magic hadn't been that difficult to accept when it was used to move things around. Now that Arthur had seen a glimpse of Merlin's power, though, it made him edgy. Everything took another dimension. Merlin's obsession for necromancy. His probable thefts. Had he ever harmed someone for a book? There was too much Arthur didn't know.

As time went by, though, Arthur realised that if Merlin had wanted to harm him he’d done it long ago. He looked around him at the room the sorcerer had decorated for him and knew he’d really meant to help the ghost. It didn’t mean Arthur was ready to forgive him just like that. He had been afraid and knowing Merlin could become so violent when things didn’t go his way was more than a little unsettling. More than once, he was ready to find Merlin and talk to him but he always found a reason not to. As much as he hated to admit it, he _was_ afraid.

In the end, it took a note slipped under his door to convince him.

_Do you want me to move out?_  Merlin had written in his small, neat handwriting.

It didn’t take long for Arthur to make his decision. Despite what had happened, he didn’t want Merlin to leave, not if it could be helped. The sorcerer was the only friend he’d had for years. Arthur could at least listen to him.

Merlin was watching the telly when Arthur sat next to him, startling him.

_I think we should talk._

The sorcerer stared at him with wide eyes. “Should we? I thought… You wanted me gone.”

_It wouldn’t change a thing, would it? I'm sure you don't need me to be in the same room to harm me._

"No, I don't. But… I don’t want to harm you either.”

_You tried._

On the telly, a couple was declaring their undying love to each other. Merlin turned it off but continued staring at the black screen.

“I shouldn’t have. I overreacted. It won’t happen again.”

Arthur wanted to believe him. To be honest, he wasn’t far from it but there was just so much he didn’t know.

_You’re such a mystery. It’s hard to trust you._

“You don’t talk much about yourself either.”

_Point taken. Though_ I _can’t kill a man with my only mind._

Merlin rubbed at his face, eyes still fixed on the screen. “I’m not like that.”

_Have you though? Killed someone._

“Times were different back then. I-“

_So you did._

The sorcerer brought his knees to his chest and rested his cheek on his thighs. He looked in Arthur’s direction but his eyes weren’t focused on him.

“I have seen and done many things in my life. Some that I regret. And yes, I've killed. To defend the people I loved and what thought was right. But isn't that what they believed too? I used to think I was better than my enemies but as time passed, I... I don't know anymore. I’ve kept so many secrets, made so many decisions that weren’t mine to make. I’ve made so many mistakes. I've spent most of my life trying to redeem myself. But does that change anything?"

Arthur didn’t know what to make of this confession. Deep inside, he’d hoped to be wrong but he wasn’t. Merlin wasn’t the innocent, harmless young man he appeared to be. Yet his face was raw with grief. He seemed so broken and weary, haunted by his past.

_Your remorse didn’t keep you from threatening me._

“I’m so sorry. I swear that’s not how I am.”

The ghost wanted to believe him. He really did. But it didn’t tally with what Arthur knew.

_Yet you’re a thief._

Merlin gaped. "What? What are you talking about?"

_You can't have paid for you collections of antique books._

"Oh, that!" Merlin chuckled. "No, I didn't steal them. They're not original, you see. Well, not all of them. I actually paid for some because... I could afford them at the time. The others, I just... Created copies. With my magic. It's pretty handy. I get access to the libraries or private collections with fake papers and I just create a copy."

_Never thought of that._

Merlin grinned, looking quite pleased with himself. Then his smile faltered and he frowned. "It's not bad, is it?"

_As long as you don't sell them, I don't think so._

"Good."

Silence settled as Arthur didn’t know what more to say. He didn’t want to be alone again and frankly, he didn’t have much to lose now. What could Merlin do to him worse than an eternity of chained to house, invisible and insubstantial? And yet Arthur was so afraid of trusting him only to get hurt, to make yet another mistake. He was torn between that and the fear of losing his only friend when Merlin spoke again.

“That book… I know it doesn’t excuse anything but it’s very precious to me.”

_What’s inside?_

"Stories from my past. About someone I loved. Well, still love. The one I did all these things for. I get... Protective when it comes to him. But that doesn't excuse what I did to you."

_I’m sorry I tried to destroy it. I knew you cared about it._

Merlin nodded his acknowledgement and his smiled warily. The small hope in his eyes, the dimple on his cheeks made something warm settle in Arthur’s belly. It made him want to find out more about the sorcerer, to unravel all the mysteries still surrounding him. If anything that should have convinced to send Merlin away because it was such a bad idea to go there. Yet he couldn’t.

He assumed it was time to give in, to accept Merlin as the old, broken man he was, or at least pretended to be. Arthur couldn't do anything about it anyway. So what was the point of holding grudge? He wasn't even sure why he what he was afraid of. If Merlin wanted to harm him or use him for whatever purpose his necromancy studying needed him for, he would have done it already. He'd never seem violent before either.

_Stay._

“Does that mean you forgive me?”

_Yes._

Merlin’s smile broadened, alongside with the warmth in Arthur’s belly. That’s when the ghost realised he was fucked. He cared too much already. Whatever happened, he would end up hurt. Exactly what he’d tried so hard to avoid by scaring everyone away. Being alone was easy. It was sad but it was easy. Easier than being rejected. Easier than caring for someone you couldn’t give anything to. Arthur would end up hurt and it was too late to do anything about it.

***

Arthur wasn't sure where they stood after their reconciliation but he wanted to be friend with his tenant again. So no more hiding in his room for days. He assumed he should try to get used to sharing his place, too, and not letting himself be annoyed too deeply by Merlin's quirks. He'd never been good at it in his lifetime, though. That task would require a great deal of efforts yet, in one way or the other, he was stuck with Merlin. Arthur might as well do his best to make their living together pleasant.

Five minutes before the time Merlin usually came back, Arthur was sitting in the kitchen, waiting for him with a steaming cup of tea. The front door soon opened and short after, Arthur felt a familiar tickling on his skin.

"Hi, Mr Spooky," Merlin said as he sat down opposite Arthur. The ghost pushed the cup towards him. "Oh, thanks."

He took a sip of the tea and an awkward silence settled. Merlin took his muffin from the paper bag. He didn't eat, though, only fiddled with it. Finally, he asked: "How was your day?"

_Nice. I finished the sixth series of Doctor Who._

"Did you like it?"

_Wasn't bad. And you? Any difficult clients today?_

Merlin shrugged. "It was alright. Chris spent his time flirting, as usual. I was left with the old ladies."

_Jealous?_

"Not really. They give me cookies." Merlin grinned and, as if to prove his love for sweets, proceeded to bite in his muffin. "They have this idea that I'm malnourished and it's their mission to feed me."

_Can't see why._ Arthur smirked. He'd actually had the same thought at first. Until he'd seen Merlin devour gigantic meals, that is.

"Oi! I eat plenty."

_I noticed._ Arthur burst into laughter at the faked hurt on Merlin's face. It had been a while since the last time he laughed. He figured it bode well for the future.

"Anyway, you can talk but for all I know, you're skinnier than me."

Merlin's joke fell flat. Arthur wasn't used to being teased about his being a ghost. It was still too sensitive a spot for him to be comfortable with such jests. Merlin must have noticed something was wrong from the lack of answer because he dropped his gaze and rubbed his neck. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

Just like that, the atmosphere became awkward and Arthur's doubts returned. As silence stretched, Merlin frowned in concentration. "Fancy a game of chess?" he finally asked, his voice unsure.

_Can't play._

"Oh." Merlin's face fell and silence settled again. The sorcerer finished his muffin. Arthur had always thought chess was obscure and boring but he didn't want to let him go on such a bitter note. After all, since he was a ghost, he’d learned to enjoy a lot of things he used to consider tedious.

_You could teach me?_

The man grinned. "Of course!"

A few minutes later, they were sat in the living room - Merlin on the sofa, Arthur on the floor - and a chessboard lay on the table. The ghost tried to understand the rules but Merlin's enthusiasm combined with his muddled speech made the task difficult.

"No! You're not allowed to do that!" the sorcerer exclaimed as Arthur moved one of his rooks.

The ghost put the piece back and moved another one. That earned him a hiss from Merlin. _Bad ?_

"Very. You could do that, though," the sorcerer answered before moving a pawn. Arthur failed to see in what it was better but didn't ask. A dozen of moves later he lost.

"I guess there's some practice to do. Up for another game?"

_Of course. I must train if I want to beat you one day._

Merlin chuckled and put the pieces back on the board.

***

“I can’t say if you’re studious or you’ve just opened that book to make it look like you were reading it,” Merlin said, startling Arthur who was engrossed in the introduction to chess the sorcerer had bought him. “That’s unfair.”

_I_ was _reading. Before someone interrupted me._

“Oh right. I thought you might want some company after spending the day alone. My bad, Mr Unsocial.” Merlin rolled his eyes but there wasn’t an edge to his words. Arthur closed his book.

_What is it?_

The sorcerer couldn’t hide his little triumphant smile. “I thought we might pick up the computer lessons. If you don’t mind?”

_Well I don’t know. I’m not sure there’s any hope for you._

“There certainly isn’t for you to stop being such a snob.”

_I am not!_

Merlin chuckled. He walked upstairs, knowing he’d won, and just for that, Arthur wanted to pick up his book again. But the thought of the disaster Merlin could do if he was left alone with the computer convinced him to move.

_You still remember how to turn it on?_ The ghost wrote once he transposed into the library.

“I make doe-eyes and whisper dirty thing?” Merlin answered with an innocent smile.

_Ha ha ha._

Despite Arthur’s lack of enthusiasm, the sorcerer grinned at his own joke before opening the laptop and pressing the power button.

“I might be slow but I’m not stupid, you know.”

Before Arthur could think of something witty to retort, he caught sight of a small plastic ghost on the desk. It held three-fingered hands up in the air and had big, ridiculous yellow eyes and a cheerful, goofy smile.

_What the hell is that?_

“You.”

_Excuse me?_

“I saw it in the shop yesterday and decided that was how I was going to picture you from now on.”

Merlin was much too smug about that. Arthur decided to retaliate by quickly pushing the keys to turn the display 180° while he was too busy grinning like a loon.

There was a gasp when the sorcerer turned back to the screen. “What’s that?! What did I do?”

Arthur chuckled but didn’t answer, enjoying the horror-stricken look on Merlin’s face.

“Spooky? Help me, I killed the computer!”

The ghost chuckled even more. Merlin was too funny clicking everywhere on the screen and whispering apologies to the laptop. Then suddenly, the sorcerer pointed a finger to him.

“You! What have you done?”

_Me? Why would I do that? I can’t help it if you’re an idiot._

“I know it’s you! Turn it back!”

_Not before you apologise for comparing me to that ugly plastic thing._

“Oh, so not only you’re snob, but you’re vain too! What a charming person you are.”

_Well, I’m the only one in this room able to fix the computer AND help you do whatever you wanted to, so you should probably be a bit nicer to me._

Merlin crossed his arms on his chest, jutting his chin. He remained like this a few seconds before realising that Arthur was right. He sighed.

“Alright. I’m sorry,” he said reluctantly.

_Say you won’t imagine me as that ugly thing again._

“I won’t.”

_I won’t, Sir._

“Fuck off!”

Arthur chuckled. He didn’t miss the little smile on Merlin’s lips.

“So. Fix it now?”

_Alright, alright._

Arthur pressed a few keys and the display was back in the right way. But he heard Merlin mutter under his breath: “Bastard.”

_Idiot_

They didn’t stop bickering for the rest of the day.

***

They fell into a routine. In exchange of the computer lessons, Merlin took care of Arthur's chess knowledge. He'd bought one of these puzzle magazines filled with chess situations you had to solve in a given number of moves and scattered pages all around the house. When Arthur solved one, he would stick it to the fridge and Merlin would put sticker (usually Disney ones) on a huge piece of paper next to Arthur's name. Arthur found it ridiculous but still did the same next to Merlin's name whenever he managed something new on the computer.

When Merlin came home from work, Arthur would sit with him, watch him eat his muffin and listen to his stories about his clients at the shop. He would sit through Merlin’s meal too, which was a bit ridiculous since he didn’t eat. Yet he liked these moments because it almost felt like they were ordinary flatmate. Arthur could do with more things ordinary in his existence. Sometimes, in the evening they would watch telly or read together in the living room.

Of course, Merlin's quirks still hit on Arthur's nerves but he was slowly accepting them as a part of the man and getting used to them. That didn't keep him from being on the verge of throwing some of the sorcerer's clothes away on a regular basis because second-hand embarrassment was becoming unbearable, though. Yet, all in all, Arthur enjoyed Merlin's presence in his house. He brought some rhythm in Arthur's existence. He was someone to talk and laugh with, and they often did both. Most of the time, Arthur even forgot the powers Merlin had. He'd never been violent again, after all.

Then one day, Merlin had a dazed expression when he came in the kitchen. He greeted Arthur half-heartedly but didn’t say a word after that. He made a cup of tea and sat staring at it. He didn’t have any muffin. He remained motionless for a while, his shoulders slumped, his eyes old and tired. Just when Arthur was going to ask what wrong, he stood up and walked upstairs.

Arthur found him on the bed, hidden under the blankets. He wished he had a way to communicate with Merlin without writing, to let him know he was there if he wanted to talk or simply to put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. Instead, he sat on the bed and hoped Merlin would get the message. The man, however, soon asked him to leave him alone.

Arthur spent the evening floating aimlessly in the house, wondering if he should insist on making Merlin talk or simply leave him in peace for a while. He decided on the latter but continued to pace, worried. At nine, Merlin still hadn't come out of his room so Arthur made him a sandwich and a pot of tea he put on the bedside table along with a note saying he'd be happy to listen to Merlin and help him as much as he could.

Arthur paced for a few moments more then finally sat down in his room with a book. It was a funny thing how he'd never read when he was alive and spent so much time reading now. Without being able to exercise, go out or socialise, he'd had to find other pastimes. He learned to like it, even though if he had the choice again, he would probably take his old routine of gym, games of footie and nights out with his friends and forget books completely. In his current state, however, he needed reading as a way of living by proxy.

He transposed into Merlin’s room around midnight. The sandwich and the tea had disappeared but the sorcerer was still curled up under the covers except for his face sticking out. Arthur sat beside him. The sorcerer told him to leave but it was half-hearted.

“Thanks for the food,” Merlin said after a long silence.

_My pleasure. Anything you want to talk about?_

Merlin sighed heavily. He sat up, taking his time to rearrange the blanket around him, then hugged his knees and rested his cheeks on them. “I’m sacked. Three weeks’ notice.”

_Shit. What happened?_

"They don't make enough money, have to cut the expenses."

_I'm sorry._

Merlin gave him a wary smile then sighed again. Arthur hated to see that defeated look on his face, the weariness that radiated from his body. He wished he could do more than write a few words on a piece of paper.

_Hey, I know it’s bad but you managed until now. I’m sure you’ll find something. I’ll help you._

“Thanks.”

When it was clear Merlin was just being polite but not at all appeased, Arthur asked: _Couldn’t you… I don’t know, make money appear on your bank account or something?_

“That wouldn't be fair. I don't want to use my magic like that. Besides, what would I do all day? I need to do something with my life, even if that's serving coffee to rude businessmen. Otherwise I’d get bored to death.”

Arthur was well placed to see why keeping occupied, especially when you got all eternity in front of you, was crucial. He wasn’t sure how to comfort Merlin, though. That’s why his friends never came to him when they needed to talk. They’d go to David. David always knew what to say or when not to speak. Arthur wished he had his talent.

Deciding to avoid lame, empty words, he put an arm around his shoulders, careful not to touch him so as not to go through him. He had no idea if the sorcerer's sense of his presence was precise enough to notice but it was all he could do. It must have worked because he soon felt Merlin's magic tentatively wrap around his wrist, so light he could barely feel it.

"Is that alright?" the man asked and Arthur realised he hadn't touched him since the day he'd threatened him. He also found he didn't mind.

_Yes._

The magic ribbon around Arthur's wrist wound itself a bit tighter and another one circled his waist. The feeling on his skin gave him chills. It made him aware of his body again. After all this time floating through everything and everyone on his way, he sometimes forgot he had one.

They remained like this for a while, silent and motionless, taking comfort in each other's presence before Arthur realised time was passing by and Merlin had to wake up at ungodly hours. _You should try and get some sleep._

Merlin sighed and slowly uncurled himself. "Yeah, I guess." He made for the door but stopped just before going out. Eyes on the floor, he asked: "Do you... Do you mind staying with me? I just... Don't want to be alone."

Arthur didn't answer but as Merlin made himself comfortable under the blankets, the ghost lay down beside him. It took Merlin only a few minutes to fall asleep and only then did the magic let go of Arthur's wrist.

***

Merlin barely talked for the rest of the week. During that time, Arthur picked up the job-ads section from the newspapers the sorcerer discarded and tucked them into a neat pile on the desk in the library. He also inquired about the best websites for finding jobs since that might have changed since his death. So when Saturday came, he was ready for a painful but necessary job hunting session with Merlin. Although the sorcerer, as Arthur soon found out, was not.

Upon discovering the ads, Merlin froze on his chair. He stared at them. And stared. And stared. His expression grimmer and grimmer.

_Why don’t you tell me what kind of job you want and I help you sort his out?_ Arthur tried.

That seemed to rouse the sorcerer from his stupor. He opened the first booklet. His eyes wandered on the page for a few seconds. Then he snapped it shut and showed the pile aside before turning on the computer. He opened the web browser, his jaw set, a determination in his eyes that Arthur had never seen there. The ghost pondered showing him the websites he’d found but thought it best not to interfere.

Sure enough, it wasn’t a job offers page that appeared on the screen a few seconds later but a digital library. Merlin selected a text and began to read a handwriting Arthur couldn’t make out.

The sorcerer read all day and probably wouldn’t have eaten if Arthur hadn’t brought him sandwiches. For the first 2 hours, the ghost had stayed next to him, as Merlin insisted he did whenever he was on the computer. Then, bored out of his mind, he transposed to the living-room. The sorcerer didn’t even notice.

Merlin barely slept that night. The next day was spent reading more manuscripts. Then every evening of the week.

When the next week-end came, Arthur didn’t expect it to be different. He was proven right when Merlin sat on the computer before the sun was up. The ghost felt he should have done something, anything, to break that trance-like state Merlin had fallen into. Quite frankly, though, he was afraid of the sorcerer when he was in such frenzy. It wasn’t that he expected him to explode like he had when Arthur had threatened to rip his book apart but he wasn’t certain enough of the contrary to dare interrupt. So he cooked and made sure the sorcerer ate and drank enough.

That Saturday didn’t totally go like the past one, though. Early in the evening, while Arthur was reading a book in his room, he heard a loud crash followed by a shout coming from the library. Transposing there, he found the laptop shattered on the floor, at the foot of a shelf, and Merlin face hidden in his arms, shoulders shaking. Arthur hovered a hand over his shoulder and waited patiently that he calmed down.

_What is it?_ he asked as the sorcerer sat up, wiping his cheeks. When Merlin made a move to turn away, he added: _No more avoiding me. I want to help you but you need to talk to me._

Merlin sighed and sat back down, fiddling with the hem of the t-shirt he’d been wearing for 3 days. “You can’t understand.”

_I can try._ Then when no word came, _what was it all about, this reading frenzy?_

“I’m looking for something.”

_What?_

“A spell.”

There it was again, the old fear Arthur thought had vanished. It still sat there deep inside him.

_In a necromancy book? What kind of sorcerer are you exactly?_

Merlin’s eyes snapped up in alarm. “It’s not what you think. It’s not… It’s not bad, I promise.”

_What is it, then?_

“I’d prefer you didn’t ask any questions. Please.”

Arthur wanted to ask, though. Because what spell could be so important that Merlin made so much effort to find it if it wasn’t something gut-wrenching in a rule-the-world-with-an-army-of-undead-monsters kind of way? He should have demanded an answer. Instead, he had a look at this wet, red eyes and his heart clenched.

_It’d be nice if you had even an eighth of this determination to look for a job._

“I know. I just… Can’t bring myself to do it.”

_Look, I know it’s a pain in the arse but putting it back will only make things worse._

Merlin rubbed at his face. “I know. I’ve done this a thousand times already.”

There was a heavy sigh. The sorcerer looked around at the shelves, his eyes glassy, then stood up to trail a finger on the spines. Just when Arthur thought the conversation was over, Merlin spoke again.

“I appreciate your help, Spooky. I just… I’m not sure you can save me.”

_I don’t understand._

“This has been going on for centuries. Find a job and a place to stay. Live this life for a few years, 10 maybe, 15 if I’m lucky, and then disappear before people wonder why my face doesn’t change. Do it all over again somewhere else. Never settling. Never leading a normal life. It’s… Exhausting.”

Merlin let himself down to the floor and brought his knees to his chest. Arthur sat beside him, his heart heavy and a little broken.

_You told me there was a reason you were still here._

“The truth is: I’ve been fighting to survive and to fit in for so long, I’m not sure there’s a reason anymore. That’s what I’ve been trying to convince myself but it might only be wishful thinking.”

It hurt to see the hopelessness in Merlin’s eyes, especially after the determination that had been sitting there the whole week. Then Arthur realised he might just have seen Merlin’s last burst of will before he let got. The ghost resolved not to let that happen.

_There’s still the spell you’re looking for._

“It probably doesn’t even exist,” Merlin answered with a shrug.

_You can’t be certain._

“I’ve roamed libraries and private collections all over the world for it. I should resolve myself to accept that the only way I want to use my magic is the way I can’t”.

His voice broke. In his eyes, Arthur could see the scars left by centuries of frustration and shattered hopes had left in his soul. He exuded weariness form every pore. The ghost wished he could tell him he’d done his best and deserved to rest, to leave behind all his struggles and worries and pains. He wished he could give Merlin a place he could spend the rest of his days in peace. But immortality was a curse he couldn’t lift. Selfishly, he wondered if he’d be that broken in a few centuries then reflected that, by that time, he’d probably have gone mad.

_They’re still digging treasures, though. You never know what the future can bring._

“I guess,” Merlin said without conviction.

Silence stretched. After some time, Merlin walked to the remains of the laptop and knelt, indication this time that the conversation was over. He muttered a few strange words and the pieces moved around in the air. Keys inserted themselves in the keyboard, a printed circuit found its way into the computer’s belly, the crack on the screen vanished.  A few moments later, the laptop was as new.

_I thought you needed to know where each piece was going._

“Nah, that’s different. They haven’t been apart for long, they still remember where they were. I just asked them to go back.”

_Convenient._

“Wait until I turn it on. Last time I did that with electronics, my telly showed only pink shading.”

_It’s a way to see life through rose-tinted spectacles._

Merlin rolled his eyes but the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. He put the laptop on the desk and picked up the papers that had lay scattered on the floor since the last week-end.

_Shall I help you cook dinner?_

“Why not?”


	3. Chapter 3

If Merlin’s reading frenzy had stopped, his three-week notice time passed by without him starting job hunting. 

On his first day as unemployed, he woke up at eleven, later than he'd ever done even when he'd spent the night reading manuscripts. Arthur watched as Merlin ate his breakfast then took several jars of herbs from a cupboard. He grinded some leaves in a mortar and threw them in a pan filled with water which began to boil as his eyes turned gold. Arthur realised he'd never seen him use his magic for that before. He wondered if maybe Merlin was sick and the concoction he was making was some kind of medicine. Finally, the sorcerer recited a spell before pouring the content of the pan into a glass.

"Mr Spooky, can I ask you a favour?"

_Go on._

"Could you stay out of my room today?"

_Why?_

"Please, just do as I say, alright?"

Arthur frowned. He didn’t like that one bit. Surely if Merlin was ill, he wouldn’t make so much fuss. The sorcerer’s recent behaviour only made Arthur more suspicious.

_No. Tell me what that thing is._

"It's nothing. Don't worry."

_Then just tell me._

Merlin rolled his eyes. He took the glass and walked to the door but Arthur was there first. He stood in the way, putting all his concentration into becoming solid as he'd used to do to touch objects. he'd given anything to be alive again, just for a few minutes, to put his hands on Merlin's shoulders, look him straight in the eyes and tell to stop being cryptic and explain what the hell was going on. He was afraid and angry, too, not to know how to help the sorcerer.

Merlin just walked through him. The ghost let out a cry and transposed at the top of the stairs. He all but shoved his notebook in Merlin's face.

_Tell me you're not doing something stupid._

Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm not. Just leave me alone. Please."

Without waiting for an answer, the sorcerer walked to his room, shutting the door behind him. Arthur didn’t follow. He transposed into his own room, trying to convince himself that he was over-reacting, that Merlin only needed some time alone and that the potion he'd made was a simple medicine. He failed.

He tried to respect Merlin's wish. He really did. He even picked up a book to have something else to concentrate on. Only to give in five minutes later and transpose into the sorcerer's room.

Merlin was lying on the bed, the empty glass on the bedside table. His eyes were open but glazed. Arthur shouted his name, forgetting he couldn't hear him. He floated closer. Merlin's eyes didn't move. Panicking, the ghost seized his shoulders, only for his hands to run through the man. He shouted again in frustration. He couldn't take his pulse, couldn't even call an ambulance. He paced around the room, running a hand in his hair. There had to be a way to do something. There had to. He couldn't let his only friend die because he'd been stupid enough to let him drink a suspicious potion when he'd been down for weeks. He slapped himself. How could he have been so dumb? But no, it wasn't time to beat himself up. He needed to find a solution.

He floated above Merlin, put his ear inches away from his tenant's nose and listened carefully. He seemed to be breathing at least but for how long? Arthur started pacing again. He needed a way to attract attention. If only the house had had a fire alarm, he could have set it off. He racked his brain for something else but couldn't find anything. Desperate, he transposed in the street, willed himself to become visible, put all his strength into it. He shouted, waved at passers-by, but no one noticed him.

Arthur flew to Merlin’s room again. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He had forgotten he could cry. He checked Merlin's breathing again. It was still there. He started pacing again. What if he made enough noise to catch attention? Would someone call the police? Would they come and find Merlin in time?

"Arthur," Merlin mumbled, startling the ghost. He came closer. If only there was a way to make his presence known. Then he realised Merlin never called him by his first name. Whoever it was the sorcerer was talking to, it wasn't his personal ghost.

Merlin continued slurring. His eyes moved, following something he was the only one to see. He said Arthur's name again and a soft smile appeared on his lips. That was when the ghost realised his friend might not have tried to kill himself but only taken drugs. That calmed Arthur down a bit. Though he still didn't know what to do. If he was wrong and just waited for the effects of the drug to fade, Merlin might die. But if he was right and still managed to bring an ambulance, he feared his friend might get into trouble.

Arthur was still debating what to do, pulling nervously at his hair, when dozens of fire balls appeared in the room. The ghost felt a surge of panic as some of them came dangerously close to the curtains, ready to transpose into the kitchen to bring water. Hopefully, though, nothing burst into flames and he realised the balls were just an illusion and not real fire. The ghost sat down next to the bed with a relieved sigh.

He watched the lights floating in the air and realised there was nothing he could do now. He hadn't planned on Merlin's magic going haywire. He couldn't risk anyone witnessing it. So he stayed there all day, checking Merlin's breathing regularly. He watched as butterflies joined the fire balls before everything disappeared. He listened to Merlin laughing quietly, a sound he hadn't heard in weeks. And all the while, Arthur's heart shattered.

A little after sunset, Merlin finally fell asleep yet Arthur didn't leave. He checked on him until morning, when the man woke up groaning, putting the ghost's worries to an end. Merlin didn't notice his presence. He painfully stumbled out of the bed and out of the room. A few minutes later, the shower was on.

Arthur waited in the kitchen. He didn't react when Merlin greeted him nor when he asked how he was doing. The ghost was busy burning a hole in Merlin's forehead with his stare and only wished the man could see it. Finally, when Merlin sat down with a cup of tea, he ghost took a pen, gripping it too tightly, and wrote: _next time you decide to do drugs, would you care to warn me?_

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his temples. "I told you not to come into my room."

_I WAS FUCKING SCARED. I THOUGHT YOU'D KILLED YOURSELF._

The sorcerer stared with wide eyes. “I told you I can’t die.”

Arthur’s anger abruptly vanished. How could he have forgotten that? He felt a bit stupid for his outburst.

_I panicked, alright?_

Merlin looked away, sheepish.

They had a lot of things to talk about but Arthur decided not to push it for now. _You should eat._

" 'M not hungry."

_You’re always hungry. And you didn’t eat anything yesterday._

Merlin shrugged. Arthur rolled his eyes and set to make toasts. When he put the plate in front of Merlin, the man didn't dare protest. Sure enough, a few moments later, he was devouring them.

Once the sorcerer finished his breakfast, they moved to the living-room and sat in silence for a while. Merlin's shoulders were slumped and he seemed decided not to look at Arthur.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t realise how it would look to you.”

_So you keep everything you need to make a powerful drug in your kitchen?_

“You’ve lived with me long enough to know I’m not an addict.”

_I’m worried you might become one._

“Sometimes I need to forget for a while. There’s nothing more to it. Don’t go all judgmental on me.”

Arthur was surprised by Merlin’s cold tone. And a little hurt too.

_Well, I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t care for you._ Then he realised that might have been a bit harsh so added: _look, I’m sorry if I overreacted. I’m not judging you. I’m just worried._

“I guess… I’m not used to anyone caring for me anymore. Sorry.” Merlin turned away but not enough to hide the wetness of his eyes. “I’m alright, though. It’s just a rough patch. It happens every few years. It’ll get better.”

Looking at Merlin now, at his gaunt features and glassy eyes, Arthur was unconvinced. He understood he’d better not push the subject, though, so he asked: _What do you mean, you’re not used to anyone caring for you?_

“I just am,” the sorcerer answered with a shrug.

_Surely you have friends._

“What makes you think that?”

Arthur paused. He realised he’d never seen Merlin on the phone, let alone send text messages Arthur wasn't even sure Merlin knew how to.

_You used to go for a drink with your colleagues now and then._

“It’s hardly enough to call them friends, is it?”

_Don’t you like them?_

“It’s complicated.”

_Why?_

Merlin clicked his tongue. “It’s better like that, alright?”

Arthur couldn't understand. After four years of complete solitude, he couldn't fathom why someone would choose to cut himself from the others. Not when he knew the suffocating feeling that crushed his chest every time he thought about how desperately alone he was, how he longed to talk to someone, not even confide in them, just talk. To exist for someone. To spend time with them. For someone to care. That was why he'd taken so much pleasure in scaring his tenants. At first, he'd wanted the house for himself but after a few months, he only wanted them to react to his presence. To acknowledge him. Scaring them was the only way he'd found.

_I don’t get it._

“I don’t age!” Merlin shouted. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he went on, calmer. “I can't stay too long in the same place, with the same people or they'd notice. I can't get attached or it'd hurt too much when I have to leave."

_You could tell them._

"Tell them what? Hey, you know I'm a sorcerer from the Middle Ages and I don't age and I can't die either but don't freak out?"

Arthur was too stunned to answer. Merlin had let out he was centuries old and that had been hard enough to conceive. But that he came from the Middle Ages? That was just too much.

"That doesn't matter, anyway," Merlin went on. "Even if they believed me, or found a way to change my appearance gradually, I would watch them grow old and die and... I'm not sure I could take it. I met so many people, I can't even remember them all. I... Can you imagine it? Losing every single person you ever care for? It's... It hurts too much."

Merlin's voice broke. His eyes were wet and he squeezed them shut to hold back the tears.

_Doesn't it hurt anyway?_

"Yes." Merlin sniffed. "Of course it hurts. I meet all these wonderful people I'd like to get to know but I can't. And I see their disappointment every time they invite me to do something with them and I decline. Then one day, they stop trying and I know I won. Except that doesn't feel like a victory at all. Of course, I'm lonely and... There are times, I think that's what finally going to kill me and I tell myself I should just forget these stupid rules but then I... I remember how it was before I set them. The pain every time I left.  Every time I found out about a former friend's death. Every time I fell in love and how I would put off the separation until people marvelled at how young I looked for my age. How I would destroy our relationship and myself at the same time. I was going mad with grief."

A sob interrupted him. For a moment, he couldn't speak. Arthur's chest tightened. He regretted bringing this topic now that he saw how much it affected Merlin. But at the same time, it made him realise what his friend extraordinary longevity implied. He'd never reflected that much on it before. Although himself was afraid of an eternal existence, he'd never completely realised it was the same for Merlin. It was never eternity as much as uselessness and invisibility that scared him. He'd thought existing without being able to take part in the world was the worst of fates. He'd been wrong.

Merlin took deep breath and managed to calm down. He wiped his tears. "Sorry."

_It's alright._

Arthur cringed. He wished he knew a way of expressing his sympathy, of offering more support than simple, empty words. For want of anything better, he let his hand float over Merlin's arm. The sorcerer smiled weakly.

"It's better now, don't worry. I learned to cope with loneliness. I found the right balance. I talk with my colleagues, sometimes I have a drink with them. I choose jobs implying a lot of interaction with clients. This way I can socialise without suffering too much."

But suffering he did. This would never disappear, exactly as Arthur would forever be invisible and hurt because of it.

_It's a good thing I'm already dead, then. We can be friends and you won't lose me._

"But I _will_ lose you. One day you'll achieve your destiny and you'll finally rest in peace. Or I'll have to move out to avoid raising suspicion amongst the neighbours and you won't be able to come with me. Whichever comes first."

Merlin looked at him with eyes full of pain and sadness and Arthur felt a lump form in his throat. In his newfound happiness at having a friend, the ghost had forgotten their situation wouldn't last forever. The realisation hit him with all the strength of an earthquake and let him shattered. He would have to go back on being alone and invisible. One day, he would lose the only thing that made his existence bearable. For a moment, he could think about nothing but the pain he would feel that day. How would he continue? Somewhere at the back of his mind, he wondered if that was how Merlin felt every time he lost someone dear. His need not to get too close to anyone seemed all the more sensible.

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. A familiar pain crushed his chest, suffocating him even though he didn't need to breathe. He acknowledged it, let it take hold of his body. He let loose all the wild thoughts eating him away. Then, once he was ready, he gathered all these thoughts and squeezed them somewhere deep inside him so they couldn't escape. For now. Merlin was there and still would be for some time. Dreading the day he would leave was no use. He should enjoy what he had. He'd learned in his early times as a ghost to keep his thoughts from devouring him. It was either that or going mad.

_Then why haven't you kept away?_

"You're a little hard to avoid. Are you complaining?"

_Not at all._

"Good." Merlin smiled gently.

Arthur put his hand over Merlin's arm and soon felt the familiar touch of his magic winding itself around his wrist.

“How is it to die?” the sorcerer asked after a while.

Arthur startled. His arm went through his friend before he could control his gesture. For a moment, Arthur was too surprised to answer. He considered telling Merlin about the loneliness and the cold. The dark nothing he’d wandered in before being brought back. He quickly decided against it.

_I don’t think you should know._

“Of course. You ghosts always say that.” He smiled sadly. “I keep wondering if it’s because what comes next is so great you’re afraid I might seek it or so bad I’d fear it for the rest of my life.”

Arthur didn’t like the gloom in Merlin’s eyes more than the turn this conversation had taken. But before he could orient it on a lighter subject, the sorcerer said: “You never told me about your death.”

The ghost didn’t want to think about that night. It hadn’t been easy to borrow the memories deep inside him never to be brought up again. Yet he felt guilty keeping so many secrets when Merlin had confided so much in him.

_It’s a bit pathetic, honestly._

“Don’t say that. It happened in your room, right? Was it an illness?”

_Murder._

Merlin’s face paled. His magic squeezed Arthur’s wrist gently. “Who did that to you?”

_Burglars. I was stupid enough to get up when I realised they’d broken in instead of lying still. They must have heard me because the next thing I knew 2 giants were in my room. It was messy, that’s all I’m going to say._

Arthur shuddered at the memory. Not for the first time, he wondered if things would have been different had he not tried to play the hero. Would he still be alive? He quickly broke this train of thoughts. They’d been swirling in his head for months and had brought nothing but the feeling he was drowning in his pain and regrets.

“I’m sorry.”

Arthur didn’t want Merlin’s pity or kind words. Nothing could change what had happened to him. To end the conversation, he stood up and took the chessboard from one of the shelves. He put it on the coffee table, between Merlin and him. The sorcerer seemed to understand because he helped him arrange the pieces without a word.

***

The next morning, Arthur had to drag Merlin out of bed by repeatedly poking his ribs with a pen until the man got up with an abundance of groans. All form of protestation ceased when Merlin entered the kitchen and found the breakfast ready on the table, though. Once he had eaten, he tried escaping Arthur's plans for the day but that was without taking into account the ghost's stubbornness. So after a small battle of will, they both sat in front of the computer, reading job offers.

Finding ads matching Merlin's profile wasn't as difficult as Arthur had feared. Throughout his life, the man had occupied countless positions in his life and acquired remarkable abilities in many different fields, though he had absolutely no understanding of some others. In the end, the trickiest part was writing believable CVs and fake recommendation letters. Arthur helped with the page setting and research. For the rest, Merlin seemed familiar with the task of making up imaginary lives for himself.

In the early afternoon, a pile of application files was ready to be posted and Merlin was whining that he was so hungry his stomach was digesting itself. Yet he waited for Arthur to declare they'd done enough for that day to run to the kitchen. When the ghost transposed downstairs, the sorcerer was already devouring a sandwich. Arthur found horse stickers in a drawer and put one for each application they'd made next to Merlin's name on the board they'd both neglected in the past weeks. Merlin smiled at him.

Once Merlin finished eating, Arthur suggested they watch a film and let his friend pick a DVD. An idea that the ghost deeply regretted a few minutes later when the Disney logo appeared on the screen. He complained profusely yet Merlin wouldn't yield, arguing that he wasn't in the mood for anything else. Arthur didn't understand what was wrong with a good action film and expressed that opinion colourfully. He stopped whinging only when he realised Merlin didn't pay attention to his writings anymore.

Arthur suffered through the story of Rapunzel and Flynn with many sighs, groans and comments he was the only one to hear yet he watched until the end.

"So, was it really that horrible?" Merlin asked as the credits ran on the screen.

_Absolutely._

The sorcerer chuckled. "Nah, I'm sure under all that rock that little ghost heart of yours is all fragile and romantic."

Arthur rolled his eyes. Sometimes he really wished Merlin could see him so he could shut him up with a single dark stare.

_In your dreams._

"Say what you want. For all your complaining, you stayed."

The ghost groaned. _That's because I didn't want to leave you alone._

"Awww, how cute is that!"

No really, it was a shame Arthur couldn't make use of his well-practised death stare right now. _Ugh. I'm not cute._

"Yes, you are. Maybe that's how I should call you now: Mr Cute."

_Kill me now._

"That might prove difficult seeing as you're dead already."

Arthur took the owl pillow that had been relocated from his room to the sofa because it was just too ugly and threw it at Merlin. He had to admit that might not be his most mature reaction but that was all he had. Merlin laughed. "Oh no! I was wrong, you're an evil spirit after all. A cute evil spirit armed with pillows."

_I AM NOT CUTE!_

That just made Merlin giggle more. Proud of this achievement, Arthur threw a stray shirt at his friend, just to hear him laugh longer. Maybe he could endure the insult if that caused such joy to Merlin.

***

The week went on, divided between job seeking and idle time. Arthur and Merlin played chess together and watched films. And if Arthur was frustrated by his choices in this area, regretting the lack of action and war films, his complains were only a way to tease him. If Merlin had seen wars, nursed the wounded, seen them die and even taken part in fights and killed men, it wasn't really a surprise that he didn't consider that kind of films as an ideal pastime. His life intrigued Arthur, especially since Merlin had let slip that he was from the Middle Ages, but after their painful conversation about friends, the ghost didn't dare ask anything too personal. The feeling of hypocrisy when he thought about what he had confided about his own life to Merlin didn't help. So they went on with their routine, avoiding any serious conversation topic. The sorcerer cooked complicated meals, something he didn't usually have time for, and Arthur helped him on some occasions. He found he didn't need to concentrate as much as before to hold objects, as if his abilities had improved with practice.

Arthur kept Merlin busy and the sorcerer seemed in better spirits but the ghost knew it was a fragile state. He noticed his friend didn’t go to the library anymore, didn’t search for new manuscript online either. He didn’t know what to think of it. On one hand, it might be the sign Merlin was giving up. On the other hand, he might finally have decided it was time to live for himself and stop running after that spell. So, just in case, he didn’t bring up the subject.

The sorcerer’s mood dropped when the first negative answers arrived. That is, when employers bothered answering at all. Arthur tried to convince him to register to unemployment benefits but Merlin wouldn’t hear of it, complaining about too much paperwork and his loathing to be a burden to the society when he shouldn’t even be alive. The ghost didn’t insist. He also knew better than to try and comfort Merlin with words, upon seeing his disappointed face every time he checked his post and e-mails. He was too familiar with the feeling of uselessness and dread Merlin's situation brought. And now, he realised he not only was worried for his friend but also because their separation might come sooner than he'd expected.

Until one day, the phone rang, which was such a rare occurrence that Arthur hadn't even noticed Merlin had one. Merlin walked away to take the call and left Arthur anxiously waiting. When he came back, the sorcerer had a smile on his lips. "I've an interview next week!"

_Great! Where?_

"The small bookshop, remember?"

_The one you spent an hour on their website and mooned over the pictures of the place? And didn’t you drool?_

“I didn’t drool!”

_You did._

"Did not!"

_Did too._

"That wasn't drooling, _Mr Cute._ That was mere aesthetic appreciation."

_Don't call me that!_

Merlin laughed. Once more, Arthur regretted not being able to use his killer stare. _I don't understand why you like it so much, anyway._

"There're so many books!"

_That's a bookshop, Merlin, I'd be worried if there weren't._

The sorcerer rolled his eyes. "Don't be a spoilsport. It's... There're new books and used books and... The shelves are so high you need a ladder to reach the higher ones and it's chaotic but everything has its place and-"

_Chaos? You’re certainly familiar with that. You should bring pictures of the house to show them how well you manage it._

Merlin glared and Arthur couldn’t hold back his laughter when he saw his cross his arms and pout childishly. The sorcerer tried hard to keep this pretence, which made the ghost laugh more, but slowly his eyes softened, turning into a look of pure fondness that made Arthur’s belly flutter.

“My magic tickles when you laugh.”

Merlin grinned, all dimples and crinkling eyes. Something warm swelled in Arthur’s chest. A bitter voice in his head reminded him that they’d never have more than that, a few smiles and touch of magic, but he silenced it quickly, determined not to let it spoil the moment. Then Merlin looked away, blushing slightly.

He fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt for a while and when the silence became too uncomfortable, he said: “Anyway, I'd better not be too excited, I don't have the job yet."

_I'm sure you will. There’s no one more experienced than you with the whole interview business, is there?_

“I guess you can see it that way.”

_Then stop worrying._

“Alright,” Merlin said with a smile. “I’ll do my best.”

***

When the day of the interview arrived, Arthur was almost as nervous as Merlin, though he was loath to admit it. He picked up book he put down a few moments later when he realised he had no idea what he’d just read. Then he tried the telly with the same result.  Finally, he settled on pacing in the living-room while the sorcerer got ready. Then Merlin came out of his room and Arthur was struck in horror.

_You're not wearing that?_

The sorcerer looked down at his dinosaur-patterned shirt, pinstriped waistcoat and plaid trousers. "Is there something wrong? I used to blend in quite well with fashion but I must say lately it's been a bit difficult."

_I can see that._

"That bad?"

_Yes. I'll find you something._

Arthur transposed into Merlin's room and searched his wardroom. It took some time but he found a plain shirt and trousers that miraculously went well together. He gave them to Merlin, who had joined him, and went out of the room while he changed. When the sorcerer came out, this time, he looked much more acceptable. The trousers hugged his legs in all the right places and, although the shirt was slightly too big, it brought out his eyes. It was perfect if you forgot his hair sticking at odd angles.  A sudden surge of want ran through Arthur, though he wasn’t sure if it was because he was actually attracted to his friend or if he simply longed for physical contact.

"Better now?" Merlin asked, rubbing his neck.

_You're gorgeous._

"Don't make fun of me!"

_I don't._

A flush crept on the sorcerer's skin as his gaze dropped on the floor. There was a short pause before he asked: "Can I go now?"

_Wait._

Arthur found a comb in the bathroom and carefully straightened Merlin's hair, fighting the hopeless desire to run his hand through it and the regret not to feel his friend's breath on his skin when they were so close.

_You're all set._

"Thank you." Merlin smiled. Then he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

_Good luck._

The sorcerer nodded his acknowledgement. A few minutes later, he was gone.

Arthur had never been good at waiting, in his lifetime. Sitting still and hoping for the best had never been his kind. Becoming a ghost had helped a little but right now, the wait was killing him. If he'd been alive, he could at least have gone for a run instead of floating all around the house, which had no soothing effect since it didn't require any effort.

When Merlin came back a few hours later, though, Arthur refused to let his anxiety show. He transposed into the living-room and waited until Merlin had taken off his coat and shoes before he asked: _how did it go?_

Merlin sat on the sofa. "Not bad, I think. The owner's very nice. She's an old lady and she used to run the shop all by herself but now she can't go up the ladders anymore."

_Did she like you?_

"I think so. We got a bit carried away and spent an hour talking about books. She was impressed by my knowledge of literature."

_Being immortal has a few advantages._

Merlin chuckled. "I did have some time to read, you're right. Anyway, I'd love to work there but... Let's not hope too much, just in case."

Arthur took the cue to stop asking questions and suggested a game of chess instead.

***

Merlin sat next the phone as soon as he was up the next day. Arthur sat beside him with a book but quickly, the sorcerer’s inactivity and constant foot tapping drove Arthur mad so he tried distracting him with a film. It worked for all of three minutes. Then the sorcerer was back stealing glances at the phone and drumming on his thigh. Arthur stared, wishing he could hold his fingers to make him stop and trace patterns on his palm to soothe him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such an intimate contact.

_Will you calm down? You’re making me nervous._

“Not possible.”

_She might not even call today._

“Don’t tell me you don’t know that feeling. I’m sure you were worse when you applied for that dream job making satellites.”

A cold wave washed over Arthur. He had hoped Merlin had forgotten. It had been easy to lie when he wasn’t sure he liked the sorcerer at all but now…  He felt guilty for lying to him. He should tell him the truth. There was no reason Merlin would go away now, after all, not even Arthur’s miserable life. But there was more than that. He was afraid his friend would be disappointed, both discovering that Arthur had lied and that he’d been pathetic his whole lifetime. The ghost couldn’t bring himself to tell the truth.

_Nah. I’m pretty sure I’ve never been that ridiculous._

“Right. I don’t believe a word you say.”

_Your problem._

“Come on! Tell me!”

_I just did._

“You’re no fun. “

Merlin went back to shooting frequent glances at the phone, as if he could make it ring with his thoughts, which upon reflection he probably could but that wouldn’t help. Arthur cursed himself for not being able to entertain his friend more than a few minutes.

“You never told me, what did you do on these satellites?  In terms that I’d understand, I mean.”

Oh shit. With Merlin’s understanding of technology, Arthur knew he could make up something and get away with it if he remained vague and confusing. Then he looked at the sorcerer and saw his eyes sparkling with interest, in the way they’d had when he’d discovered the wonders of the internet. The ghost felt so unworthy of it, he had to look away.

“Spooky? You alright?”

_Yeah._

“So? Is it that hard to explain? I’ll try my best to understand, go on.”

Arthur tried hard to come up with something but drew blank. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t lie to Merlin. He couldn’t bear his friend admiring him for something he wasn’t.

_About that…_

“Yes?”

_I haven’t been totally honest with you._

“What do you mean?”

Arthur’s eyes were glued to his notebook but he didn’t need to see Merlin’s face to hear the confusion in his voice.

_I’ve never been an engineer._

There was a pause. Arthur wasn’t so sure about telling Merlin the truth anymore. The sorcerer had been so eager to hear about his friend’s job, Arthur was loath to break his heart.

“What did you do then?”

The ghost felt his stomach churn. The pen hovered above the paper.

“You’re worrying me. Was it illegal?”

_ No! _

“Immoral then?”

_ Neither. _

“Then why don’t you tell me?”

Arthur knew he was stalling and there was no point to it. It was too late to turn back now. And lying again would only make things worse.

_I worked at Tesco._

 “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?”

_I was ashamed._

“But there’s nothing wrong with that!”

Arthur closed his eyes. He could still hear his father’s words from the day he ran into him, still in his work clothes. He could still see the disappointment in his eyes, when all Arthur had ever strived to from his early childhood was to make him proud. Even when he’d chosen to lead his own life, he’d hoped to show him he could achieve great things outside of what Uther had imagined for him. He’d hoped he could meet his father again one day and see the pride in his eyes.  Years later, the failure still hurt.

_There is when your father’s the owner and CEO of the largest aerospace company of the country._

“Well, he can’t tell you how to live.”

_But he can disinherit me._

Arthur still didn’t look up but he heard Merlin gasp.

“He did?”

_When I chose to study sport science instead of “something that could get me a proper, honourable job”._

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

Of course, being gay hadn’t help but Arthur didn’t say.  He didn’t want Merlin’s pity. As it had turned out, anyway, Uther had been right. Arthur shouldn’t have strayed off the path made for him.

_Don’t, please._

“What happened then?”

_You mean: how did I end up at Tesco?_

“Yes.”

_Failed my second year. Had to find a job. My mom sent me money in secret but I didn’t want to depend on her. She wouldn’t stop, though. Obviously that’s why I could live here._

Merlin’s magic coiled around Arthur’s wrist, soothing. As nice as it felt, it didn’t help with the self-loathing.

“I still don’t understand. Why did you lie?”

_Because I’m pathetic._

“Of course, you’re not!”

_I dropped out of uni at 22. When I found this job at Tesco, it was only temporary. I’d find a way to get better training, a better job, to repay my mom. I wanted to travel, to do something meaningful with my life. When I died at 28, I still had the same job and my mom still put money on my bank account. I failed my life. How is that not pathetic?_

He remembered the succession of days, each one as dull the other, spent behind the counter or stocking shelves. He remembered the hours spent thinking he needed to get out of that shop and yet the thoughts never strong enough to overcome the inertia he’d fell into. He’d never considered himself weak before, certainly not after finally standing up to his father to lead the life he’d dreamt for himself. His failure at university, though – due more to never-ending parties and meet-ups fuelled by a desire to enjoy his newfound freedom than to a lack of skills – had been a blow to his self-confidence. Having to depend on his mother to keep his train of life hadn’t help. Nor had the mind-numbing work. The security of a steady income had done the rest. Then one day he realised he’d better have followed the path had made for him. He might not have been happier but at least, he’d have made Uther proud and Ygraine wouldn’t have been constantly worried for him.

“But you can never achieve everything you want in your lifetime. Not even when you live for centuries. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone fails sometimes.  The only thing you can do is to accept it and move on, try again. It’s never easy but that’s all there is.” 

_But I can’t try again now, can I?_

“That’s not true. You can still make a difference.”

_Yeah? How? I’m invisible and stuck here._

“Well, you certainly do for me.” Arthur’s eyes snapped up but Merlin was looking away. He went on, “you could do the same for others when I leave.”

The ghost forced himself to consider the idea, even though it seemed surrealist, even though he didn’t want to think Merlin would leave one day. He quite liked the thought of becoming friends with his future tenants, to be honest. He could be their confidant, the one to bring a smile on their face after a rough day. Yet even if he treaded carefully, how many wouldn’t run away screaming upon discovering his existence? How many would accept his presence, let alone his friendship? How many times would his heart be broken by their rejection? There was a reason he’d frighten everyone away.

_I doubt everyone’s as open-minded as you._

“That doesn’t mean no one’ll accept you.”

Not wanting to contradict Merlin, Arthur chose not to answer. The sorcerer must have felt he wasn’t convinced, though, because he added: “and I’m still certain you have a role to play in this world.”

_I guess I’ll have to believe it._

“Whatever you do, remember that you’ve done nothing you should be ashamed of.  You’re a good person and your life’s been stolen far too soon. You should learn to forgive yourself.”

Just when Arthur was going to ask if Merlin had managed to forgive himself for the people he’d killed, the phone rang. The sorcerer jumped. He took the receiver and walked out the room, leaving Arthur biting nervously at his lip.

Hopefully, Merlin wasn’t long. He came back a few minutes later with a grin on his face. “I’ve got the job!”

***

Arthur finished mixing the soup and poured it back in the pan on the stove to keep it warm. A glance at the clock told him Merlin would be back any time soon. The late closing time of the shop was a downfall of the sorcerer’s new job yet that was highly compensated by the fact he didn’t have to wake up before dawn anymore.

Sure enough, a moment later, he heard the door opening and the sorcerer announced, “I’m home!”

There was a shuffle of clothes then Merlin appeared in the kitchen. He slumped on a chair and sprawled his arms and head on the table.  “I’m knackered.”

_Hard day?_

“I’ve been up and down ladders stacking the shelves for hours. Mrs Moore, she’s the shop owner, is lovely though.” He frowned and added, “What’s that smell?”

Merlin sat up and took in the pan on the stove along with dirty kitchenware. “Have you been cooking?”

_To celebrate your first day._

The sorcerer’s surprise soon gave way to a smile. And what a smile it was, so bright it made his cheeks dimple and his eyes crinkle so much they disappeared.  So beautiful it made Arthur’s inside warm. He could easily get used to be the cause of such a smile. Making Merlin happy might become his new goal.

Under his gaze, Merlin’s smile grew smaller. The sorcerer tilted his head, looking at the ghost with wonder. Self-conscious, Arthur added, _it’s nothing fancy. Just butternut and lime soup._

“I love butternut!”

_I gathered, since I had to make do with what’s in your fridge._

“True. I don’t remember having any lime though.”

Arthur busied himself filling a bowl, avoiding the underlying question.

“Spooky? Where did you find that lime?”

The ghost put the bowl in front of his friend without answering. He tried hard to resist his scrutinizing gaze.

_Eat before it will go cold._

Merlin frowned. Arthur gave in.

_I might have visited the neighbour’s kitchen._

“Naughty.”

_She had plenty! She won’t miss it._

Merlin rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to protest further but seemed to decide against it and closed it again. Finally, he took a spoonful of the soup.

The ghost studied his face nervously. He’d been a decent cook in his lifetime and helping Merlin with his complicated meals recently had made him find his old habits back but cooking alone was a different thing. Without being able to rely on either smell or taste, he’d had to follow the recipe blindly and hope he hadn’t overdone the seasoning. Merlin’s appreciating moan soon relieved him, though.

“This is delicious! I guess in these conditions I can forgive you for stealing lime from poor Mrs Patterson.”

_Consider it retaliation for the time her dog bit you._

Merlin laughed. “It’s only a Chihuahua. I hardly risked losing my leg.”

_This dog’s vicious. It’s a danger to society._

“Now, aren’t you exaggerating a little?”

_The wicked thing used to smell I was there. I could hear it bark every time I passed her door. It ran after me even from across the street. I had to check before I left the house or I was in for a good run. I lost count of the number of times it bit me._

“Poor Spooky, outran by a Chihuahua.”

_Oi!_ Arthur protested but Merlin was still laughing.

He needed several minutes to calm down before resuming eating. He looked dreamingly at his soup and had a soft smile on his lips. Arthur felt ridiculously proud. It was nice to bring pleasure to someone, even such a simple one as a meal, after all these years. His interactions with the living might be limited but he still could bring a smile to their lips. That was something he’d never realised before Merlin and he was glad the sorcerer had been there to open his eyes.

Soon, though, Merlin slowed down and seemed to have difficulty swallowing.

_You can tell me if it’s bad. I won’t get offended._

“No, it’s delicious, really,” Merlin protested.

He looked up and that’s when the ghost finally noticed the wetness of his eyes.

_Then what’s wrong?_

“I just realised I didn’t remember the last time someone cooked for me.”

Arthur’s chest tightened. He still couldn’t believe Merlin had managed to go through centuries leading such a lonely life. It was so unfair. Maybe meeting each other was just what both of them had needed.

_It’s a good thing I did then._

“Yeah.”

Merlin smiled. He had that fond look again, the one that made something warm settle in Arthur’s belly. His magic wrapped around the ghost’s wrist and hand, squeezing slightly. He didn’t let go as he resumed eating. For a moment, Arthur wondered if his friends might feel the same about him that he did about Merlin, whatever that was since he wasn’t keen on putting a word on it. He lingered on the possibility, on how it made his heart swell, then crushed his hope. He had so little to give, how could someone feel that way for him? Especially Merlin with his resolution never to get attached. False hopes weren’t something Arthur could afford. 

***

It was hard for Arthur to be alone again. He'd gotten used to Merlin's constant presence and found he didn't mind it anymore. Now that the house was empty most of the day, it seemed boring and a little sad. It didn't help that more and more often Merlin went to have a drink with his former colleagues. After what Merlin had said about friends, it came as a surprise and a small egoistical part of Arthur wished he'd spent this time with him instead. Mostly, though, the ghost was glad Merlin had changed his mind. It would do him good to socialise, even if these people were casual acquaintance and would probably never become close friends. Merlin needed that. And the smile on his face when he came home told Arthur he was right.

It was during one of these increasingly frequent Saturday nights spent watching telly alone that Arthur was surprised to hear voices on the doorstep. He recognised Merlin’s, heard him giggle as the door opened. Curious, the ghost floated to the hallway just in time to see a tall, athletic man pin Merlin on the door, silencing him. Arthur couldn’t take his eyes off the scene. He watched as the stranger’s lips roamed the sorcerer’s neck, as Merlin’s hands squeezed and gripped his butt. Everything the ghost would never do again.

Hopefully, Arthur’s libido had died with his body. He didn’t long for sex. What he missed was human contact, even something as simple as a hand on his shoulder or a pat on the back. He missed feeling alive and part of this world.

Something hard and cold grew in Arthur’s stomach as he stared. Something ugly that made him want to scare that stranger away. He was jealous of that stranger who could feel Merlin’s skin under his fingers, who could breathe Merlin’s scent and run a hand in his unruly hair. But most of all, he was jealous of the moans he caused, of the pleasure he gave Merlin, of everything Arthur would never be able to do again.

Arthur had floated closer to the light switch without noticing. It would be so easy. He knew even the least superstitious men freaked out when lights flickered and objects floated around. Merlin moaned. The ghost reached for the switch. Only to let his hand fall to his side again. It wouldn’t be fair.  It wasn't the fact that Merlin had chosen someone else that hurt as much as the fact that Arthur didn't stand any chance, invisible and intangible as he was.  And it wasn’t Merlin or this stranger’s fault if Arthur had died. That he was lost to the pleasures of the flesh didn’t mean Merlin couldn’t satisfy his needs. That the ghost had nothing to give didn’t mean Merlin couldn’t find happiness with someone else. Not even if Arthur thought his chest might collapse under the squeezing grip of his pain. That he was cursed didn’t mean he had the right to make others miserable. So before he did something stupid, Arthur transposed to the neighbours’.

He found himself in the Morris’ living room, with its battered sofa, small telly and pictures of two blond boys on the walls. The place was quiet despite the men firing at each other on the screen. Mr Morris sat alone, watching on low volume not to disturb the rest of his family, probably sleeping upstairs. Arthur sat beside him and tried to focus on the film.

It wasn’t enough to fight the dull ache in Arthur’s chest, though and his thoughts soon drifted back to the sorcerer. He hadn’t realised he still had hopes to see his feelings returned, despite his resolution to crush them. He felt silly, really. How could he hope when all he had to give were a few words on a piece of paper?  If he wanted to stop pushing people away and start making friends with his tenants, he’d better remember not to get attached too much. People would come and go. They might, by some miracle, accept him in his life for some time – something he still highly doubted – but sooner or later they would move on and leave him behind. After all, who wouldn’t get tired of a friend they couldn’t see or touch or even go out with? A friend they couldn’t tell anyone about without sounding mad? And Arthur couldn’t afford to feel that dull ache crushing his chest every time he would see them walk away. He remembered what Merlin had said about never getting close to anyone in order to preserve himself. The ghost could see his point now.

He remained in Mr Morris’ living-room long after the man himself had dozed off on the sofa. He was still there the next morning, watching cartoons with the children while their parents made breakfast. The ghost wasn’t keen to go back and find Merlin and his stranger sharing post-coital bliss.  So he intruded on his neighbours’ morning routine, listened to their plans for the day and the bickering of the two boys, surprised by how far the scene was from the memories of his childhood, full of silent meals and steel gazes from his father.

It’s only when the family left to enjoy the sunny day at the park that Arthur dared go back to his house. Looking around for any sign of the stranger’s presence, he floated through the living room and found Merlin sitting in the kitchen, munching on a toast. Alone, as Arthur noted with relief.

_Hey_

“Hey,” Merlin answered noncommittally.

Eyes fixed on the table, Arthur sat opposite him. He couldn’t look at the sorcerer now, not when he might see the satisfaction the night had brought him. It hurt too much. He sat in silence, hoping Merlin would be the first to speak, not sure himself what he should say. As silence stretched though, he realised the sorcerer might share his embarrassment.

_Had fun last night?_

“Yeah… Um… Sorry about that.”

_Nothing to apologise for._

“But you spent the night outside.”

Arthur wondered why Merlin had taken time to notice that when he’d been so busy but didn’t put his thoughts into words.

_Look, it’s your house. You can do whatever you want here. Don’t worry about me._

“Mine? That’s not what you said when we first met.”

_I changed my mind._

“Oh? Did I pass the test then?”

Merlin’s playful tone made Arthur finally look up. Banter was known, safe ground. And if Arthur was curious about the stranger from the previous night – was Merlin’s relationship with him serious? And if so, what was it in him that had made the sorcerer change his mind about not getting attached – he was also relieved by the chance to change the subject.

_Certainly not thanks to you tidiness and taste for decoration._

***

Three days later, Arthur found the real estate ads section from the newspaper Merlin read on his desk. The ghost had come to browse YouTube for a while since he was bored out of his mind and the sorcerer wouldn’t be back for another two hours. The page was the first thing he noticed on the desk. It had been messily ripped out and two ads were circled. He took the piece of paper to have a closer look.

Both circled ads described tiny flats on the other side of the city. They were awfully far from the shop where Merlin worked too. The page ran through Arthur’s hand and fell to the floor.  So not only did the sorcerer want to leave but he wanted to put as much distance as possible between them, no matter how inconvenient that might be. The ghost wondered what he’d done wrong. Was that about the other night? Was Merlin’s relationship with this man serious enough to make him decide to leave before the presence of his personal ghost might make things too complicated?

Arthur transposed in his room, needing as much comfort as he could get. That couldn’t be happening. Merlin couldn’t leave. Not like that. Not so soon. It was one thing to see him with someone else, to know the ghost could never make him happy, that he needed to put his feelings aside and enjoy what he had. But to see his only friend go away… Arthur couldn’t imagine the void he’d leave behind. How could he go back to his empty house and his days filled with nothing but loneliness now that he’d finally find someone with whom to share his existence? How could he go back to feeling like a freak of nature when someone had finally made him feel human again?

He was roused from his thoughts by a knock on his door and Merlin’s voice calling his name. Hours must have passed, he realised.

“Arthur? Can I come in?”

The ghost forced himself to move to open the door. Merlin was steadying himself with a hand on the frame. He was slightly out of breath, as if he’d ran up the stairs, his brows knit together.

“Are you alright? I felt… There’s so much sadness flowing from you, I…“

Arthur gaped.

_You mean you feel it?_

“Um, yeah.” Merlin rubbed his neck and dropped his gaze. “I have for some time now. It was weak at first but… Now I can pretty much tell how you feel all the time.”

Arthur felt dizzy. He thought back on the past weeks, on the swelling in his chest that had grown steadily and wondered just how much Merlin knew.

_And you didn’t tell me because?_

“I wasn’t sure how. I’m sorry.”

The ghost wanted to be angry. He felt violated, somehow, even though a part of him knew that knowing would have changed much. He might have tried to conceal his feelings but that probably wouldn’t have been enough. He still thought Merlin should have told him, though. But then, he couldn’t be angry when the sorcerer had that sheepish look on his face.

_Why can you feel it only now?_

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because when spent so much time together or… But it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

_No._

Merlin shuffled his feet. The tip of his ears had turned red. Arthur definitely shared his embarrassment, especially as silence stretched between them.

“Do you mind if I sit down? I’ve been walking around all day in the shop.”  
Arthur realised he was still standing in front of the door and moved away to let him in. The sorcerer slumped on the armchair.

“You still haven’t told me what’s wrong.”  
The ghost felt a twinge in his chest at those words. He’d almost forgotten for a few minutes. Now the pain had returned in full force, gripping his heart with its cold hand. Merlin’s brow wrinkled in concern.

_I found your ads. Are you planning to leave?_

The sorcerer’s eyes went wide then he dropped his head, biting his lip.

“Yes,” he whispered.

_ Is it because of the other night? You know I don’t mind you having people around. No one has to know about me if you don’t want to. _

“Don’t say that! I don’t want you to be my dirty little secret!”

_ So you’d rather leave? _

Arthur winced at the bitterness of his words. The last thing he wanted was to make Merlin feel guilty for his choice

“It’s not that.” The sorcerer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry.”

_Don’t be. Is it because of this man? What’s his name?_

“What? No! No, that was just a one-night stand. “

Arthur floated closer. He reached to put a hand over Merlin’s before realising that might be too intimate and aimed for his shoulder instead.

_It’s your choice. I’ll accept it. I just want to understand. I thought you were happy here._

Merlin’s magic brushed Arthur’s cheek, so briefly it almost felt like a kiss.

“I am. More than I have been for a long time but…” He trailed off as he rested his elbows on his legs and hid his face in his hands. When he went on, his voice was so low, Arthur barely caught his words. “I’m falling for you.”

Arthur almost made him repeat, certain he had misheard but Merlin went on, his voice louder yet shaking a little.

“I tried to get you out of my head but… I can’t and… My life’s complicated enough. I can’t do this, Spooky. I’m sorry. I need to leave before... Before it hurts too much.”

Arthur heart ached. This wasn’t fair. He didn't have anything to give. After everything Merlin had lived, he deserved so much better than that. Now that he knew his feelings were returned he wished they weren’t. His hopes had been so selfish.  

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said, looking up at Arthur with misty eyes. “I know you-“

The ghost put his pen across Merlin’s lips to interrupt him.

_I understand._

Arthur moved his hand to the sorcerer’s. They couldn’t intertwine their fingers but Merlin’s magic weaving itself around his digits and against his palm, soft and warm, felt almost as good. Silence settle, heavy with regret and sadness but not awkward.

_The places you’ve looked at are tiny_ , Arthur finally wrote. _You’re not going to fit all your things in there._

“It’s all I can afford. It’s not ideal but I’ll just have to shrink everything.”

_You're like Mary Poppins._

 "Yeah.” Merlin chuckled but the sound was weak and hollow. “Like Mary Poppins."

_Want me to help with the search?_

“Thanks but I’d rather not.”

_Alright._

Silence settled again. There were so many things Arthur wanted to say. That he was sorry or wished things could be different, that he hoped Merlin would be happy, find that spell he was looking for and forgive himself for whatever he’d done in the past he still felt guilty about. But it wasn’t the time to say goodbye yet and none of these words would have eased the pain.

In the end, it was Merlin who brought the conversation to a more cheerful tone.

“I should start making dinner. Want to help?”

_With pleasure._

Merlin’s magic let go of Arthur’s hand but just as he felt a pang of regret, magic wrapped itself tightly around his whole body. A few seconds later, it was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur spent the night in his room, taking in the decoration Merlin had set up for him to call up this memory when the place would be empty again. The news sat heavy on his chest. He still couldn't quite believe Merlin would soon leave. It wasn't fair. If destiny existed, as the sorcerer believed, why had it brought him a friend, showed him he could still love and be loved, only to take everything away so quickly? He wasn't angry at Merlin though. He understood his need for self-preservation. What could their relationship bring apart from pain when they couldn’t even touch or leave the house? When anyone would think Merlin was mad if he only mentioned Arthur. It was bad enough when the sorcerer fell in love with a mortal and had to leave before anyone noticed he wasn’t aging. It was bad enough that he saw everyone he cared for die. Merlin deserved someone who could make him happy, make him forget his struggles, make their time together worth the pain it would cause when their paths would part. He deserved what Arthur couldn’t give him. The ghost wouldn’t try to hold him back.

The ghost wondered what would have happened if they had met when he was still alive. He wondered if they would have been friends, if somehow he would have managed to get as close to Merlin as he was now despite all his rules, if they would have had a future together. He doubted it. At that time, Arthur would probably not have paid Merlin any mind. The sorcerer wasn't one of these straight-forward beauties Arthur used to be attracted to. He would have stopped at the ears and the lanky figure and categorised him as someone not worth his interest. Merlin's charms required getting to know him to be fully appreciated. They resided in his sense of humour and caring heart. In his blinding grin and the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at Arthur even though he couldn't see him. In his devotion to find that mysterious spell that eluded him. And yes, even in his ears, which the ghost found quite endearing now that he'd got used to them. Arthur would never have discovered that if he'd met Merlin in his lifetime. So he didn't wish they'd met sooner. Instead, he longed to be brought back to life. He held on this thought for most of the night, feeling the ache of it in his whole being.

When Merlin’s alarm set off, Arthur was waiting in the kitchen with a plate of pancakes. This kind of attentions might only make Merlin's departure harder but the ghost couldn't help himself. He wanted to make the most of what little time they had left.

A few minutes later, he heard a loud gasp and looked up. Merlin stood on the threshold, staring at Arthur with bulging eyes. His knees buckled as their gazes met and he had to grip the doorframe not to fall. The ghost could only stare back, mouth wide open. There was only one reason that could explain Merlin’s reaction upon entering the room but Arthur wasn’t ready to believe it. He didn't dare hope. Not yet. It wasn’t possible.

“A-Arthur.” Merlin’s voice was barely above a whisper but the ghost could hear its shakiness.

“You can see me?”

Merlin put a hand on his mouth. He swayed and for a moment Arthur thought he was going to fall but he managed to steady himself on the doorframe. The ghost was so flabbergasted he didn’t realise his friend hadn’t called him by his nickname. A single thought looped in his head. Merlin could see him.

“Arthur,” the sorcerer repeated. His voice was broken, his eyes wet.  He took a hesitant step, then another and all but slumped on a chair. The sudden movement roused the ghost from his stupor.

“You’re alright?”

“Oh gods, you even have his voice.”

Arthur tried to think but his mind was still numb from the shock. None of what was happening made sense. Neither did the sorcerer’s words.

“Merlin? What are you talking about?”

A whimper was the man’s only answer. His whole body was shaking now. For a moment his short, loud breaths were the only sounds in the room. His eyes were wide, his cheeks wet with tears.

“Calm down,” Arthur said, his voice shaking, as much for Merlin as for himself. He too needed to get rid of the swirling thoughts of why or how and concentrate on making the wild look in Merlin’s eyes disappear.  “I don’t know why you can see me but there’s no need to panic.”

Forgetting himself, Arthur put a hand on his friend’s hand and it ran through him. The sorcerer’s stare dropped to his hand then went back to the ghost.

“No. No you’re not him. He would remember me. I’d have known he-“

“What are you talking about? Who’s he?”

Merlin didn’t seem to hear. He pressed the heel of his hands on his eyes and took a few deep breaths. When he looked at Arthur again, his expression turned aghast.

“I’m going mad. That’s it, I’m finally going mad.”

“What? No! You’re not mad. I’m here like I’ve always been only now you can see me.”

“No.” Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “No you’re in my head. It’s-It’s impossible. I-“

 “Shh… Calm down. You can feel me, with your magic. You know I’m here.”

That didn’t work. The sorcerer became agitated. He ran both hands through his hair, shot worried glances around him.

“What if… What if all this time I’ve been hallucinating and-“

“What about the people I spooked away then? Why did they left if I’m not real?”

“They’ve been hallucinating too. It’s something in the house, some kind of poison or –“

“Hey…” Arthur put a hand over Merlin’s, making sure he didn’t run through him this time. “You can feel me. I know you can. This is not something your magic can make up, can it?”

The sorcerer jerked away and stood up.

“I-I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. I-I need to leave.”

With that, he stumbled out of the room. Arthur followed him.

“Merlin, calm down. I don’t know what happened but we can work it out together, alright? But you need to calm down.”

The sorcerer ignored him. He took a bag and filled it blindingly with clothes.

“What are you doing?”

Once again, Merlin didn’t answer. He zipped his bag closed and made for the door. Arthur transposed on the doorstep to block his way but the man just walked through. A moment later, Merlin was gone.

For several long minutes, Arthur didn’t move. He stared at his friend’s room, trying to process what had just happened. Nothing made sense. The sorcerer had never doubted his existence before, so why now that he could actually see him? And who was this other Arthur who looked so much like him?

The ghost looked around him, at the horrible four-poster bed he’d grown to love, at the lacquered screen that seemed so out of place next to the medieval tapestry, and wondered if that had been the last time he’d seen Merlin. The thought made his heart heavy. It was one thing to know Merlin would leave to protect himself but another to see him run away, convinced he was mad. That had happened before with other tenants. Those who had no taste for the supernatural usually questioned their sanity before considering the possibility of living in a haunted house. But they usually weren’t living alone, or if they were, they had people over from time to time and Arthur made sure to make his presence known to them too. He wanted them to leave, not to ruin their lives by making them think they had hallucinations. It always made him sick to see them think they were losing their mind because of him, not to mention the pain of seeing people deny his existence. He’d never thought that would happen with Merlin too. And now… Now Merlin would leave and look back to their time together as a figment of his imagination. Now he would live in fear of his mind crumbling. All because of Arthur.

The ghost felt so disgusted with himself he could feel his ribcage caving in, on the verge of imploding. The pain was excruciating and he was half in mind to surrender to it. That was what he’d have done in his lifetime. That was how he’d reacted when he’d come home, numb and miserable, thinking about his lonely, boring life, and facing a future not much brighter. He’d drown in the pain or in alcohol, wallowing in self-pity but never doing anything to change. Because the one time he’d tried to escape the path led out in front of him, his new route had only led to a darker realm. After that, he didn’t believe things could change, so he didn’t even try. And that was exactly why Arthur had spent his existence as a ghost ashamed of his life. He was not going to make the same mistake now. He would find a way to make Merlin see he was real.

As he searched his mind for a solution, Arthur realised that his shock over Merlin’s reaction had distracted him from something huge. The sorcerer could see him. Why now, he had no idea but he would have time to reflect on that later. For the moment, he needed to know if other people could see him too.

In his haste to transpose outside, he didn’t check his appearance. He’d been wearing the same clothes for so many years, they’d become a part of himself and he’d stopped noticing them. It wasn’t like he needed to give any thought about his look, anyway. But for his first trip outside in years, he wanted to be decent. So he quickly transposed back into his room and looked down at himself. He was wearing the track bottom and the red t-shirt he’d been sleeping in the night he’d been murdered. It wasn’t his greatest look but at least the clothes looked like they had before his aggressors had beaten him up. The only problem were his bare feet. He quickly found one of Merlin’s spare pair of trainers, though, and put them on, hoping his improving ability to touch objects without concentrating on them or running through them would mean he wouldn’t lose his shoes in the middle of his walk. After a last check in the mirror, he transposed back onto his doorstep.

He couldn’t feel the fresh air on his skin nor the sun on his face despite his wishes yet it felt good to be outside. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d venture out of his house. It felt safer inside. Even now with his determination to find out if he’d become visible, he wasn’t so sure about walking away. There were so many things he should be careful about. Stop floating around like he’d done for years and behave like a normal human being, just in case people could actually see him. Making sure he didn’t run through anyone, which might prove a nightmare on a busy street.  Fight against the pull on his chest that would inevitably try to bring him back home. And of course, he’d better leave his neighbourhood as quickly as possible since he wasn’t keen on explaining to people why he looked exactly like their dead neighbour. It was scary. He didn’t want to think what might happen if someone noticed something was wrong with him. Yet the need to know was stronger.

Slowly, he walked away. It felt strange to mime walking when he’d floated for so long. He had to be so concentrated he wondered what strange sight he offered. To reduce these chances, he quickly turned in a back alley.

When he emerged on a larger street, a few hundred meters later, he moved more naturally, despite the pulling on his chest growing stronger with every step. A few people walked past him and he tried not to be disheartened by the fact that they didn’t look at him. After all, people rarely stared at each other when they walked on the streets. There was only one way to be sure. He needed to talk to someone.

He spotted an old lady waiting at a bus stop and walked to her.

“Excuse me,” he asked, his voice almost quivering, his stomach knotted.

The lady turned an expecting gaze to him. She saw him. Arthur had to refrain from letting out a triumphing shout. Then he realised he had no idea how he appeared to people. To himself, he seemed normal but that wasn’t any indication since he’d always seen himself when no one could. But the old lady didn’t scream so he assumed he wasn’t see-through or anything.

“Yes, what?” she asked, impatiently. Arthur realised he had no idea what to say next.

“What-What time is it, please?” he stuttered.

“Five to ten.”

“Thanks, ma’am.”

The lady shot him a suspicious look and he realised he was grinning like a loon.

The grin didn’t disappear on his way back home. He could have stayed outside a little more, to enjoy his new state but it had been so long since the last time he’d went out, he itched to go back to the safety of his house.

Once there, surrounded by Merlin’s belongings, his joy receded slightly. He wished he could share his happiness with him. It wouldn’t have changed anything between them, Arthur still didn’t have anything to give to him and the sorcerer’s decision to leave was the best for him. But he could have seen Merlin smile one last time. And his friend could have stayed a little while, helped him act like a proper person, and told him when he floated too high above his chair or forgot to walk.

Arthur wandered aimlessly in the house. Sometimes he stopped to examine one of Merlin’s knick-knacks, a painted clay unicorn here, a medieval helm replica there. He’d hated this mess at first, now he knew he would miss it. It was a relief to know convincing Merlin he was real wouldn’t prove as hard as he’d thought it would. If other people saw the ghost too, Arthur only needed to find his friend and go with him in a crowded place, hoping he wouldn’t freak out again.

He thought back on Merlin’s reactions that morning, wondering who that other Arthur was. The same that had caused his friend to refuse to call him by his first name, the same he’d dreamt about when he’d taken that strange drug. The one who, apparently, looked exactly like the ghost. It still didn’t make any sense.

In the afternoon, he wasn’t further along than he’d been before despite all his thinking. Yet he couldn’t take his mind off Merlin. He transposed into his friend’s room, which he’d avoided until then. He didn’t like being there when Merlin wasn’t.  His friend respected his privacy so the least he could do was to replicate. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to see it now. Maybe because it might be his last occasion to do so. Maybe in hope to find something that could explain Merlin’s reaction.

The first thing he noticed was the book on the bedside table. The one his friend was so protective of. It surprised him that Merlin hadn’t taken it with him but he had left in such confusion that he might have forgotten it.

Arthur didn’t want to open it. It was very private and had their places been switched, he wouldn’t like Merlin to stick his nose in his business. It was oh so very tempting, though. He wondered what that book contained to be so precious to his friend. The sorcerer had said something about stories from his past. Could there be something about the other Arthur in there?

The ghost put a hand on the cover, feeling the texture of the old leather under his fingers. He stroked it lightly. It would be so easy to have a look. Merlin wouldn’t even know. He lifted the cover. Only to let it fall again. He couldn’t do this. His friend trusted him.

Arthur transposed in the living-room where he wouldn’t be tempted. He decided to occupy his mind with a film. There were a few in Merlin’s seemingly endless collection he wanted to watch before his friend left. It helped, a bit. He kept getting distracted by the thoughts of the book, of the fact he was visible and how it would affect his future, especially with future tenants.

He held on until the next day when curiosity took the upper hand and he finally opened the book, noting the grainy texture and rigidity of the parchment. Only to realise the book came from Merlin’s very distant past and wasn’t in a language he understood. Duh. He should have thought about that.

There was also a drawing on the first page, though. A blazon, a golden dragon on red background.  Arthur leafed through the pages to find other images. The next one was a black ink drawing of a castle with red flags waving at the top of the turrets. He examined the details, the crenels, the pointed roofs, the arrow slits. The view seemed vaguely familiar though he’d never visited any castle. He must have seen it in one of the rare documentaries he’d watched, he decided, though he was at loss to give it name or even a location. He turned the page and was met by a sight not even the event of the morning could have prepared him for. Because on that centuries-old parchment was his face.

Arthur stared. Suddenly, Merlin’s freaking out seemed much more sensible. The ghost wasn’t far from panicking either. This couldn’t be. He took a closer look. It wasn’t a mere resemblance. It was him, a few years younger than he’d been when he’d died, there was no doubt about it. Every line, every detail was right. Down to the haircut and the crooked teeth, damn it! How was that even possible? How could a man from the Middle Ages look exactly like him and even share his name? He slammed the book shut.

He paced around the room, trying to will away his dizziness. He needed to calm down. This was… Well, a gigantic coincidence but nothing more. Panicking wouldn’t change anything.

After a while, once he was, if not quite calm, at least less overwhelmed, he sat on the bed with the book. He quickly found the page with his picture again and leafed through the rest from there. There were images of other people. And as he looked at them, there was again this feeling of seeing something familiar. This dark-skinned woman, this man with luscious hair and a winning smile, why did he feel like he knew them?  He quickly turned the pages, looking for something, anything, that could explain what was going on.

There were other images of him, mostly of his face, some full length including one in armour with a majestic red cape. He stopped on one on which he was wearing a crown. Shoulders squared, chin high, a hand on the sword hung at his belt. Every inch of him screamed royalty. That’s when it hit him. Arthur. A sorcerer named Merlin. Could it be…? Could it be that the man in the book was King Arthur from the legends? That was utterly insane. The ghost shut the book and transposed in the living-room to put as much distance as possible between him and those impossible images. It was just too much.

He wished Merlin was there. But Merlin thought he was going mad. To be honest, Arthur didn’t feel quite sane either. All this time he’d been living with the legendary Merlin. And somehow he was the perfect double of bloody King Arthur. He was dizzy again. He closed his eyes and massaged his temples.

On his eyelids was the castle he saw in the book, except it wasn’t a drawing anymore, it felt real. The flags waved in the wind. The white stones shone in the sun. A name sounded out in his mind. _Camelot._ Well, nothing new there, apart from the fact he remembered something he’d learned in school, which might be a small miracle. There was more to the scene, though. Arthur could feel the wind on his skin, the horse between his legs, the sheer exhaustion of his body and above it all, relief and elation. About what, he couldn’t tell. He turned his head and discovered Merlin, wearing a red neckerchief and a brown jacket. He was smiling that adorable smile of his that dimpled his cheeks. Arthur had never fully appreciated how beautiful he was before. Then Merlin turned to him, his eyes sparkling with that awe Arthur wasn’t sure he deserved. His breath caught. He could still feel his servant’s lips on his. It was madness, what they’d done, what he felt. It was terrifying to be so weak for someone. He wanted to say it had been a mistake, to end it all when it had just begun because that would have been easier, because that way he wouldn’t put his heart into someone else’s hands. He opened his mouth but no sound came. There was so much happiness in Merlin’s eyes. He couldn’t crush that. Not because he was a coward. He knew he would have regretted it all his life. They would find a way to make it work. They-

Arthur’s eyes snapped open and he gasped. He stared at the empty room, dazed. The scene had felt so real. The feelings, the thoughts, so familiar and yet so new. Had he been hallucinating? What else could it be? But why now?

He felt nervous when he closed his eyes again and also slightly stupid to think the experience would repeat. Yet it did. The scene had change. There was a woman kneeling in front of him now, the dark-skinned woman from the book, the one with the curly hair. She wore a crown and looked up at him. He tried to smile, hoping it didn’t look too much like a grimace. He was nauseous. He who had always said he would rule the Kingdom following his heart, there he was, marrying a woman he didn’t love. He stole a glance at Merlin, standing just a few steps away in his gorgeous red jacket, and immediately wished he hadn’t. For anyone who didn’t know him like Arthur did, he would have looked happy if somewhat tired. But Arthur could see the smile was tense, the emptiness in his eyes and it hurt. He didn’t have any choice. He needed a wife. He needed an heir. Merlin understood. Arthur had promised it wouldn’t change anything between them but he knew it was a lie and Merlin knew it too. The pain in his chest was suffocating. Yet he forced himself to smile when he looked back at Gwen and took her hands. She stood up and he leaned in for a kiss. Never had he hated himself more than in this moment.

The ghost was scared now. He didn’t want to be alone with his mind. He didn’t want to see another scene, to feel someone else’s feeling, to hear someone else’s thoughts. He didn’t dare close his eyes any more.

In the end, it wasn’t enough. Images filled his head, flickering from one scene to another. His father lying lifeless in the throne room. Morgana looking at him with her icy stare. Merlin naked on his bed. It was too much, too quick. It was a good thing he could float because had he been alive he would have crashed on the floor.  A whole life was passing before his eyes. His head hurt. He fought against the images but they kept coming. People, battles, places. They all felt familiar but so new. His mind reacted to each of these pictures with feelings, switching from happiness, to hatred, to shattering pain so fast it let him dizzy and exhausted.

When it finally stopped, after what felt like an eternity, Arthur was dazed but he remembered. He remembered everything. He _was_ King Arthur. 

A few moments passed by before he was clear-headed enough to transpose into Merlin’s room. He opened the book again. Something had changed. He looked at the words and they were familiar now. He didn’t have the ease he’d once had to read this language but he understood the words and, little by little, he struggled less. Soon he was fascinated by what he read.

The book began with Merlin’s arrival in Camelot and his meeting with Arthur. It related Merlin’s life but was mostly centred on Arthur. It wasn’t exactly a diary, more an autobiography. So Arthur relived his life from his lover’s point of view. Discovered all his secrets and everything he’d done for him without receiving any credits. He’d known about Merlin’s magic when he’d died. The discovery had been a shock, not because his lover had lied to him all these years but because Arthur knew why he had, and had filled him with regrets. They could have done so much together if only he had known. Instead, Merlin had suffered his hate for magic and there had been so many things Arthur had wanted to say, so much he had to ask forgiving for and he hadn’t have time. Back then, though, if he’d assumed Merlin had helped him in some ways, he would never have imagined what he was reading now.  How could someone give so much, risk so much, without ever asking anything in return, without even anyone knowing?

There was so much love in these words, Arthur had to pause from time to time not to be overwhelmed. Some of his own memories were missing from the story. Fights he’d had with Merlin, Arthur’s wedding. Arthur’s death. In a sense, it was a relief. The ghost wasn’t sure he could have coped with Merlin’s pain right now. Not when there was so much going on in his mind.

He stared at the last page for a long moment before he got out of his daze. It felt so strange now, as if he was two men at the same time, the medieval king and the modern ghost. And all this time, Merlin had been there, throughout centuries. With this book. Why did he still have this book? Why did he still treat it as a treasure? And why did he refuse to call the ghost by his name? He couldn’t… He couldn’t still love him. Not after all this time. Could he?

The book fell from Arthur’s hand and landed on the bed. He needed to find Merlin. He needed to hear him say he hadn’t spent the last 15 centuries grieving for him. Arthur didn’t deserve it. No one did. It was just too much.

Arthur’s head was spinning and he realised he first had to process everything that happened that day, all his newfound memories before looking for a way to find Merlin.

He spent the night and most of the next day in a daze, memories and thoughts swirling in his head. All these people he remembered, friends, allies, only to realise they were long dead. Nothing connected him to that life except the memories. And Merlin.

In the midst of this haze, Arthur still managed to come up with a plan. He needed to tell Merlin he remembered but first, he needed to prove him that he was real. So in the afternoon, he found a few coins in the trinket bowl where Merlin kept his small change and walked to the Tube station.

The journey to Merlin’s bookshop was tedious and more than once Arthur found himself inches away from running through someone. Keeping his feet on ground level required an enormous amount of concentration too, so the trip left him exhausted when he finally stood in front of the shop. He’d never been so far from home since his death. Something in his chest was pulling him, screaming for the comfort of the house but he didn’t listen. Through the glass door, the ghost could see a lady in her sixties behind the counter. There was no sign of Merlin, though. Arthur pushed the door, a tight knot in his stomach. If the sorcerer wasn’t there, then he had no idea how to find him.

The woman smiled politely when the bell announced his arrival. “I’m sorry, sir, we’re closing.”

“I know, I’m not actually here for a book. I’m looking for my friend. Is Merlin here?”

“Oh, yes, he’s in the back. I’ll go and fetch him.”

Despite Arthur’s relief, the knot in his stomach tightened. It might not have been the best idea to meet Merlin in a public place in case he freaked out again but it was the only way the ghost had found to show him he wasn’t the only one to see him.

Merlin emerged from behind a shelf with a frown and froze when he saw Arthur. The woman bumped into him.

“Oh, sorry dear.”

The sorcerer didn’t react. He stared at Arthur, eyes wide, motionless. He knees buckled and he gripped the shelf to steady himself.

“Is everything alright?” the woman asked. A glance at Arthur and then, in a lower voice: “that man _is_ a friend, right? Or should I ask him to leave?”

Merlin seemed to finally rouse from his stupor. He waved a hand weakly. “No, it’s alright. He’s… An old friend, I didn’t expected to see him here, is all.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

The sorcerer managed a smile and the woman stared for a while. She must have decided he wasn’t lying because she smiled back.

“Alright, then. Go, I’ll close alone.”

“But-“

“Tsk. I’ll manage. Now off you go.”

Merlin let go off the shelf and took a tentative step. Seeing that he managed to stay upright, he disappeared behind a row and came back moments later wearing a coat.

The sorcerer was still staring at Arthur once they were on the streets. So much so that he just avoided running into a lamppost. After that, he tried to look at where he was going but kept stealing glances at the ghost.

They made the whole journey in silence. Arthur was feeling increasingly ill at ease under Merlin’s scrutiny and it didn’t help that the Tube was even more full that before, forcing him to redouble his attention. It was a relief to finally come home.

Merlin closed the door behind him and leaned against it. There was a long silence during which Arthur was afraid he might collapse but finally, the sorcerer let himself glide along the wood until he sat on the floor. “You’re real,” he whispered.

The ghost sat opposite him. “Told you so.”

“I’m sorry.” Merlin rubbed a hand on his face and sigh. “It’s… A bit much for me, right now. You look just like…”

“A royal prat? Or is it a clotpole?”

Merlin’s mouth fell open. He was panting, his eyes wide, unable to speak. Feeling increasingly ill-at-ease and unsure how to handle Merlin’s emotions, he opt for the familiar ground of teasing.

“You’re catching flies, _Mer_ lin.”

“You-you remember?”

“Yes.”

The sorcerer’s eyes sparkled with tears. “You’re back. You’re really back.”

He let out a whimper and before Arthur could react, he threw himself in the ghost arms. Only to meet empty air and fall head first on the floor. The ghost’s heart broke. He might be back but what did he have to give to Merlin?

“Merlin? You alright?”

The man sat up, half laughing half sobbing. Unable to speak, he nodded vigorously. Then Arthur felt his magic all over him, enveloping him, squeezing him. It was warm and strong and too tight but he didn’t care. It was the closest he could get to Merlin holding him and it was exquisite.

Merlin was sobbing and staring at him in awe, repeating Arthur’s name like a mantra. His whole body radiated happiness and something warm grew in the ghost’s stomach at the thought he was the source of that overwhelming elation. There was something strange in looking at Merlin with both his old eyes and the new, with the memories of everything they had shared in a life long gone. Even though time hadn’t wrinkled the sorcerer’s skin, Arthur could see now how time had affected him. It was there in his eyes that had lost their wild sparkle to turn more serious and weary, in the set of his shoulders carrying an invisible weight. And yet, no matter how the centuries had changed him, he was still Merlin, selfless and caring. That let Arthur in awe. But what amazed him the most was that after all this time, Merlin still remembered him. He had lived a hundred lives, met thousands of people and still remembered him. More than that, he was ecstatic at seeing him again. That was almost too much for Arthur to process.

His feelings were a strange combination of old and new, distant pride at Merlin’s bravery and loyalty, memories of nights spent spilling thoughts he’d thought he’d never voice, of the peace Merlin brought him in the middle of a quest by his simple presence, of heated nights and glorious days. Then there were the moments they’d shared in Arthur’s afterlife. The way Merlin had accepted the ghost’s presence in his house and all the little attentions he’d given someone he couldn’t see, hear or touch. The way he’d crossed that barrier and became friends with him. Arthur had been in love before remembering his past life, he’d been in love back in Camelot, but as the two Merlin in his mind superimposed, as he remembered everything they’d shared in both his life, he fell in love all over again. Fiercely. 

Merlin must have felt it because his eyes grew wider and he roused from his trance-like state. “Arthur… I don’t know how much you remember exactly but you need to know I… The man you knew is gone. Time’s changed me.”

“I know that. I’ve been living with you for almost a year now.”

“And you still…” he trailed off, as if, despite feeling Arthur’s emotions, he was afraid to be wrong.

 “I still love you. And not… Not only since I remembered.”

Merlin whimpered. Tears came wetting his cheeks that had barely had time to dry.

“Say it again, please.”

“I love you.”

The magic around Arthur squeezed tighter. For a brief moment, it brushed his lips in a fleeting kiss. The ghost’s heart swelled and broke at the same time at the thought he’d never feel Merlin’s lips on his again. The sorcerer let out a content sigh.

“I’ve always been so afraid you’d come back hating me.”

“Why would I hate you?”

“I don’t know, I just… I’ve been waiting for so long. I guess I had too much time to think and become terrified the moment I’d hoped for during all this time would go wrong.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean you’ve been waiting? What for?”

“For you to come back, you clotpole! What do you think?”

Arthur could only stare, eyes wide open and mouth wider. The thought that Merlin still had feelings for him had crossed his mind as he’d read his book but he’d been quick to wave it away. It didn’t make sense. Not after 15 bloody centuries. So waiting for him? No way. And what for any way? The dead didn’t come back. Well, not usually.

“I still don’t get it. I was dead. How did you know I’d come back?”

“You’re the Once and Future King. In Albion’s time of need, you were supposed to come back from Avalon. It was your destiny. And it was mine to wait for you and protect you in this new life as I had in Camelot. But I failed you again.” Merlin looked away as grief replaced all trace of joy in his eyes. His magic receded, leaving only a thin ribbon around Arthur’s wrist. The ghost had to hold back a whimper at the lost sensation. “I’m sorry. I should have felt you were back. Why didn’t I feel it? I should have been there to protect you. But I wasn’t and…  Now you’re dead and…”

Merlin rambled on nonsense Arthur couldn’t begin to understand. All he saw was the pain in the sorcerer’s eyes and it hurt.

“And it’s all my fault and-“

“Merlin.”

“Now I can’t even touch you and-“

“ _Mer_ lin!”

The sorcerer snapped his head up. “What?”

“You’re not making any sense. It’s not your fault. Why would it be? Burglars broke in, I was stupid enough to confront them and ended up dead. That’s not your fault.”

“Of course it is! My destiny’s to protect you and I let you die! I was too late in Camlann and I was too late this time too!”

“You can’t blame yourself for my deaths. Merlin, please. You…” he trailed of when he realised. “Oh my god, you’re still blaming yourself for Camlann.”

The tears falling on Merlin’s cheeks had nothing to do with happiness anymore.

“Of course, I do. I was born to protect you, to help you achieve your destiny and become the greatest king Albion would ever know. Instead I fell in a trap and by the time I got my magic back a man you trusted had killed you.”

Arthur had no idea what Merlin was talking about. The sorcerer hadn’t written that part of their story in his book. He made a note to himself to ask for more details later but now wasn’t the time.

“Yes, Mordred killed me, not you. Whatever happened, I know you did everything you could. I know there was a reason you weren’t by my side at this moment and I don’t blame you for my death. Never did and never will. And you didn’t even know me in my second life, you couldn’t have been there. Merlin, please… You were once the one to tell me people should learn to forgive themselves. This applies to you too. You’ve been feeling guilty for long enough. I’m back now, admittedly not in the state you’d hoped for, but still. I’m here. It’s time you stop living in the past.”

Merlin bit his lip. Slowly, his magic weaved itself around Arthur again, warm and soft against his skin. Light had found its way in his big, wet eyes again.

“I’ll try,” he whispered after some time.

“Good.”

A smile crept up Merlin’s face. “I can’t believe you’re finally back.”

“Yup. Back to kick your arse.”

“Talking about arse, could we go somewhere more comfortable?”

Arthur hadn’t realised they were still sitting on the floor. He smirked.

“Is your little bottom sore?”

“I’m an old man, I’ll let you know.”

“Well, you certainly look good for your age.”

Merlin laughed. “I’m glad you appreciate it.”

They sat on the sofa, Arthur as close to Merlin as he could without touching him. His magic was still hugging him and the sorcerer’s eyes never left him. Silence stretched, not awkward nor tense, just peaceful. There was much left to say but for now they were content just enjoying each other’s company.

***  
Arthur spent the night watching Merlin lying beside him on the four-poster bed he didn’t find that horrible anymore. Merlin’s magic didn’t leave him until the sorcerer fell asleep in the wee hours of morning. Excitement had kept him awake until then and a stubborn refusal to lose sight of the ghost.

Merlin groaned when the alarm set off. He reached blindly to the nightstand and knocked a few things before managing to shut the alarm off. Then his magic poked tentatively at Arthur’s side. Only then did Merlin open his eyes.

“You’re still here,” he whispered with a sleepy grin.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.”

Merlin’s magic wrapped around Arthur’s waist and the ghost welcomed the warm sensation. He’d been so cold, for so long, he craved any heat he could get, any touch. The sorcerer watched him with a sparkle in his eyes that made Arthur’s inside melt. He remembered other mornings, a long time ago, in another, less comfortable bed, when the kingdom was at peace and they could steal a few moments of intimacy. Then, just like now, Merlin would wake up beside him and look at him like he was the most precious thing on Earth. And every time, Arthur wondered if he deserved so much love. That morning was no exception.

Merlin must have felt his doubt because he frowned and his magic brushed his lips.

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing.”

The frown didn’t leave Merlin’s face but he didn’t ask further question.

“You’re going to be late.”

The sorcerer groaned.

“Don’t want to leave.”

“I know but you need to. And tomorrow’s your day off.”

Merlin’s only answer was another groan.

“Come on. I’ll make breakfast while you’re in the shower.”

“Will you now? Careful, I might get used to that.”

“Well, you’ll need to get up first.”

The sorcerer protested for form but a few minutes later he was off to the bathroom and Arthur transposed to the kitchen, thinking that he, too, might get used to such mornings.

***

Later that day, Arthur sat on the sofa waiting for Merlin to come home from work. He’d been having flashbacks all day and he was glad Merlin hadn’t seen him go blank suddenly as memories came back to him. But when he felt Merlin’s magic around him before the sorcerer even reached the door, he was relieved not to be alone with his thoughts anymore. The sensation on his skin felt overwhelming after years of living in a bubble no one could penetrate yet he wouldn’t be long to get used to it. Especially if Merlin insisted on letting his magic envelope him every single second he spent in a hundred-meter radius. Not that Arthur complained. He’d longed for contact for years.

“I’m home!” Merlin’s voice rang out a few minutes later.

“I would never have imagined, what with your magic choking me from the upper street.”

“Prat. You can’t even choke.”

“Well, squeeze the life out of me.”

“Again, I have to protest,” Merlin said, his tone a little more sombre than a moment ago. A cloud passed on his face and Arthur cursed himself bringing up his death.

His smile soon came back as he sat beside Arthur and the ghost put a hand over his, though.

“How was your day?”

“Nice. Joan was worried after your appearance yesterday, you know. She believed you were my abusive boyfriend or something.”

“It’s not my fault you turned white seeing me! I mean, whiter than usual. That must take you close to transparent.”

“Oi! I told her you were a spy searching for a piece of information required for national safety and hidden in my brain when I was a child.”

“You read too much.”

“One has to pass the time when one’s immortal,” Merlin said with a shrug and Arthur crackled.

“So since I’m MI6, now, did anyone try to kidnap you to ruin my plans?”

“Nothing of the sort. But someone tried to have me fired.”

“Do tell.”

 “So there’s this woman barging in telling me she’d forgotten the title of the book she wanted to buy for a friend’s birthday but I should be able to find it with her indications. So I asked for the author’s name and of course, she didn’t remember it either. The story, then? Well, it was a romance novel where a woman fell in love with a rich man. Helpful, uh? And the title contains the word “feeling”. And the book has exactly 264 pages.”

“She knows the number of pages but not the title?”

“It’s commonly known to be the most important data to find a book, isn’t it? So yeah, of course, I don’t find it and she proceeds to call me a worthless piece of shit and she asks me to fetch the boss and…”

Arthur stopped listening. Behind Merlin, in the wall dividing the living-room from the hall, was a door that had never been there before. It was a simple door, with no glass or complicated carving. Just a plain, wooden door with a golden knob. A door that shouldn’t be.

“You could at least pretend to listen to me, you prat!”

As the ghost didn’t answer, the sorcerer turned around. Then he turned back to Arthur with a frown.

“What are you staring at?”

“Don’t you see it?”

“See what?”

“The door.”

Merlin’s gasp roused Arthur from his contemplation. He looked at the sorcerer who had turned ashen.

“What?”

“How… How is it? The door.”

“Just normal. I don’t know. It’s just a door. Except that it was never here before.”

Merlin brought a hand to his mouth. His eyes were wide and glistening with tears. His magic squeezed Arthur tighter.

“No! Not so soon! No! It can’t be!”

“Why? What is it?”

“It’s… Fuck! It’s your way to the after-world.”

The sorcerer’s voice broke. He let out a sob and stood up. In three steps, he reached the door he couldn’t see and hit it violently with his fist.

“No! You can’t take him! Not now! Not when you’ve just given him back to me!” he shouted at the wall he was still hitting in frenzy. “Come talk to me! Fight me if you will! I won’t let him go!”

His hands were bloodied now. Arthur felt he should do something to calm him down but what could he do when he couldn’t even touch him?

“I’ve waited 15 centuries to find him again. I won’t give him up, do you hear me? Take that fucking door back!”

Merlin kept shouting but his words gradually turned into howls of pain. Finally, his knees gave in and he slumped on the floor.

“Take me with him,” he managed to say before uncontrollable sobs took over him.

Heartbroken, Arthur lay behind Merlin on the floor, as close as he could, wishing more than ever that he could bring him the comfort of a touch.

“I’m sorry,” the ghost whispered because what was there to say that could make Merlin feel better?

“Not your fault.”

“Merlin…”

How cruel was this destiny the sorcerer liked to mention if it chose to take Arthur away now that they were finally reunited? How could it make Merlin wait so long for something that would last merely a day? If there was a god, Arthur wanted to scream at him, just like Merlin had, demanding to know what was wrong with him if he thought good to put someone in such unbelievable pain. Maybe he would once he crossed the door. Who knew what was behind? There was a time he’d given everything to know, to just end this mockery of a life but now… Now…

Merlin turned around to face the ghost, his face a wet mess of hot tears and red eyes.

“I guess… Shouting won’t change a thing, will it?” His voice was raw from screaming. “Fuck, your unachieved business must have been remembering me or something. I could have you as long as you didn’t know me but as soon as…” A sob interrupted him. “This is so unfair!”

Arthur was tearing up himself. He loathed to abandon Merlin again, to be the cause of so much suffering. And yet…

“Maybe it’s for the best.”

“What? How can you say that? You don’t-”

“Merlin, I’m still a ghost. You wanted to leave because it was too hard for you. Nothing’s changed.”

“Of course, things changed! You’re the man I’ve been waiting for 15 centuries! Don’t you think that makes a difference?”

“But you can’t even touch me. I can’t go to crowded place. I can’t meet people without being afraid they’ll run through me or notice I never eat. I can’t even leave the house for too long or too far. I’d make you miserable.”

“And what do you think I’ll be when you leave? When I couldn’t even have you for a day after all these years?”

“You can move on. This might be the closure you needed.”

“You could still come back.”

“Merlin…”

“You can’t know for sure. I’ll never stop believing. Because why am I still here if not to protect you when you come back? I failed you in this life and I’m so, so sorry but next time, I’ll know you’re back and I’ll be there.”

“No, you won’t. You can’t keep wasting your life for me. Please. You deserve better than that. Stop waiting for me.”

“I can’t! I just can’t! In 15 centuries I’ve never managed to get over you. I can live without you, of course, but I can't stop waiting for you."

Arthur's throat tightened. He could see Merlin wouldn't give in. It made sense somehow, 1500 years couldn't be forgotten overnight. But the perspective of abandoning him all over again, after so little time, ached in a way he'd never ached before.

"Please," Merlin whispered. "Let's not fight. Anyway, you should go.  Before it’s too late.”

“What would happen then?”

“I’m not sure. I think the gateway would close you’d be stuck here forever.”

_Just like you_ , Arthur thought but didn't say it aloud. A plan was forming in his head. A stupid, reckless plan yet now that it was there, the ghost couldn't chase it away.

“There wouldn’t be any other side effect?”

Merlin’s eyes widened.

“I-I don’t know. I’ve never heard of any case. Why?”

“I want you to think about what I’m going to say carefully, alright?”

Merlin nodded slowly, still owl-like with his incredulous wide eyes.

"You know how it's like to live with me, with a ghost, I mean. You know I have nothing to offer you. Sticking with me might become a nightmare. You'll suffer because we could never have a normal life. But if that’s what you want, if you think you can be happy this way, then I’ll stay. If-“

Merlin opened his mouth but Arthur silenced him with a wave of the hand.

“If however, you think a clean cut would be preferable, if you think the pain of seeing me leave's better than that of having a half-boyfriend weighing you down and preventing you from doing everything you want to do, then I'll go."

“Of course, I-“

“I said I wanted you to think carefully about it. I don’t want to make your life a hell. I don’t want to be the iron that keeps you from living your life and being happy. I want you to be happy, more than anything. I know right now you’re thinking you don’t want me to go but think about it. Is that really the life you want?"

“It’s not only about me, though. Do you really want to take the risk to be stuck here forever?”

“That’s what I always thought would happen and I found it doesn’t scare me as much now that you’re here.”

“It could end badly. We don’t know what would happen if the house was demolished or-“

“Or I could walk through this door and find out the after-world is a giant nothing every soul is condemned to err in alone for the rest of eternity. Nothing’s without risk.”

Merlin bit his lip. His magic was a caress on Arthur’s cheek, on his neck, on his arm. He'd stopped crying but his eyes were still wet, though the heart-wrenching pain in them had been replaced by a fait glint of hope.

"Are you sure?" he whispered.

"I am."

"Then stay with me. Please."

Merlin's magic squeezed the ghost hand and he wished he could squeeze it back.

"I will."

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

Merlin’s magic enveloped Arthur tightly again and the sorcerer moved closer to him, as close as he could without going through him. They remained like that in silence until the short night took his toll on Merlin and Arthur had to wake him up before he fell asleep properly on the floor. There was a time when he would simply have carried him to bed. His chest tightened and he vowed to keep such thoughts away. He would need it if he didn’t want to go mad with pain and frustration. So he followed Merlin to the bedroom and noticed his door to the after-world had disappeared.

 

***

They spent Merlin's day off lazing around, talking about everything and nothing - except Camelot and Arthur's ghostliness, as both of them had tacitly agreed to enjoy their reunion and forget about the rest for the time being. At night, they lay side to side on Merlin's bed. Later, Arthur might read a book while Merlin slept but for now he was content in watching him. And so did Merlin, apparently. He still had the same awe in his eyes when he looked at Arthur and the ghost still wondered if he deserved this unconditional love. Especially when he thought about their life in Camelot and what he'd read in Merlin's book, everything the sorcerer had done for him without asking anything in return.

"Merlin?"

"Hm?"

"I know Camelot was a very long time ago for you and we don't need to talk about the past if you don't want to but… There's something I need to tell you."

Merlin nodded once to encourage him.

"I'm sorry I never saw past my prejudices against magic. Now that I've spent so much time around you and your magic I'm not quite sure why I thought it was evil. I've always thrived to make my people's life better but I've never tried to understand magic users. I know it won't change anything but I want to apologize for how I treated you and every magic user in Camelot. I'm sorry you had to live in fear."

The sorcerer stared, biting his lips, but said nothing. Arthur noticed the wetness of his eyes and he feared he'd brought back memories that would have better remained buried. He went on after a pause.

"I-I know it's probably too late but-"

"It isn't. Believe me, it isn't."

Merlin's voice trembled slightly. His magic wrapped around the ghost's wrist and Arthur realised what he'd mistaken for pain was in fact relief. Had he really been waiting to hear those words since Camlann? Since before that even? Arthur hoped not.

"It's strange that we spent so much time together and I missed this whole part of you."

"I'm sorry I lied to you."

"Don't be. You didn't have much choice."

"But I didn't want to."

"I know. What I'm trying to say is that I'd be glad to learn more about magic if you want to talk about it."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Merlin beamed.

"I'll be happy to teach you."

They remained silent after that. Despite the late hour, Merlin didn't seem keen on going to sleep, too busy watching Arthur and stroking his arm with his magic. Their hands rested close together on the mattress. So close. Arthur itched to close the distance between them, to take Merlin's hand in his, to feel his body against his, to kiss his lips. Frustration welled up in his chest. Merlin's magic wounded up around his wrist but that wasn't enough. He was tired of being the one to be touched and never be able to reciprocate. How could they have thought they could make it? Being together was great, of course, but how long would they cope being denied this basic human feeling? How long would it take before being close became a nightmare? Unless… Unless things changed. Arthur had made progress around Merlin. He didn't have problems holding things anymore. He'd become visible. Maybe, just maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could find a way to touch people too.

He remembered how it had been in his first months as a ghost, after the panic and the anger had made way for a fierce determination to make his condition better. His mom had emptied the place by then so the walls and floors were the only things left he could practice on. And practiced he had. He'd spent days and nights poking at the wall, so concentrated nothing existed except him and the piece of concrete. Sometimes he'd screamed when his hand went through the wall. Sometimes he'd cried. Yet he'd kept trying because if he couldn't be heard or seen, then touching things was his only way of interacting with the world and going on like an unwanted guest was simply not an option. It had been hard but he'd been rewarded for his efforts. He might as well try and do the same now.

He moved his hand just over Merlin's and channelled his thoughts on the sorcerer's palm. He could feel his lover's stare on him but ignored it. He needed all the concentration he could get. Slowly, he lowered his hand, focusing on the way his fingertips would brush Merlin's skin, how his palm would feel warm and soft. He heard Merlin hold his breath as he got closer. Only to let it out in a sigh when Arthur's hand ran through his.

It wasn't enough to discourage the ghost, though. He tried again and again, his frustration growing each time his hand found the mattress instead of Merlin's palm. Yet he kept going. He needed to.

"Arthur," Merlin called after some time.

The ghost didn't answer and kept trying.

"Arthur, please. Stop that."

"I need to practice."

"You're only harming yourself."

Merlin's magic curled around the ghost's wrist to stop him. Arthur finally looked up.

"I'm not spending the rest of eternity without touching you."

"And I'm not letting you beating yourself up for the rest of eternity either."

"But-"

"I'll find a way to bring you back properly. I promise."

"Who's beating himself up now?"

"I'm not! I know I can do it!"

"Merlin, I don't doubt you're a very powerful sorcerer but I'm dead. You can't bring me back. You've spent enough time wasting your life waiting for me. I don't want you start chasing another dream now."

"You're right, I'm powerful. I'm the most powerful sorcerer to have ever lived and if that doesn't mean I can bring you back then magic's useless. I've been trying to revive you for centuries and I won't stop until I succeed!"

"What do you mean you've been trying?"

“You didn’t think I was studying necromancy to raise an army of undead soldiers, did you?”

Arthur gaped.

"You said I was supposed to come back from Avalon in Albion's time of need."

"Albion didn't seem to need you as much as I did so I decided to help destiny a little."

"So you brought me back."

Thinking that Merlin was powerful enough to bring someone back from the dead was overwhelming. Yet it made sense. At least more than spontaneous reincarnation 15 centuries after Arthur's first life.

"No, I didn't. It wasn't me. The spells never worked. Why do you think I've been searching for new spells instead of you?"

"Are you sure?"

"I would have felt it."

"But I'm here. Why would I be if not because of you? I mean, obviously Albion doesn't need me."

"I don't know. Maybe the gods decided to bring you back or something."

"I'm not that important."

"I don't see anything else."

"I guess I'll have to settle with that."

"It doesn't really matter, does it? I mean, you're back, that's all we really need to know."

"Yeah," Arthur answered with a sigh. It would have been nice to understand why he'd gone from being a normal bloke with a shitty life and a shitty death to the reincarnation of a mythical king but he'd make do.

"Anyway, that none of my spells worked doesn't mean I won't manage to bring you back this time."

"Don't spend all your time trying."

"Oh I won't neglect you if that's what you're worried about. But I wouldn't want too much attention to go to your head and turn you into a pompous prat again."

"What do you mean _again_?"

Merlin chuckled. He was going to retort something when a yawn silenced him.

"You should sleep."

"Don't want to."

"I'll still be here tomorrow, you know."

"Yeah but… Sleeping feels a lot like a waste of time right now."

"Well, we're both stuck here. We've got all the time in the world, haven't we?"

"I guess."

"Besides, you're all grumpy when you don't sleep enough."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

The sorcerer yawned again.

"It might be one of those rare occasions where you're right. On the going to sleep part. I'm never grumpy."

"I'll have you know I'm always right."

"In your dreams."

"Right, good night, Merlin."

The sorcerer rolled his eyes but didn't protest further. His magic curled around Arthur's waist and he finally closed his eyes.

"Good night."


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur looked up from the book he'd picked up after Merlin had thrown him out of the kitchen. He'd wanted to help with the cleaning but according to the sorcerer, his technique left much to be desired. That had been well over an hour before, though. Surely Merlin should have finished by then. There wasn't any sound coming from the kitchen either. So the ghost transposed upstairs. He found Merlin in the library, hunched over the desk, studying an ancient book.

"You're already abandoning me, I see."

"Don't be such a drama queen. You don't need me to read your book aloud, do you?"

"Mmm, that would certainly be fit for a king."

"You're not a king anymore."

"Ah but if the peasants of this world knew who I am-"

"They'd think you're a nutter delusional about being the reincarnation of King Arthur."

"Right."

"Now, if you're done being silly, I'm trying to work here."

"Can I help?"

"You wouldn't understand a word."

"Actually, if some of these books are from… Our time, I should understand them."

Merlin rose an eyebrow.

"You remember the language too?"

"Yeah."

"Grand!" the sorcerer exclaimed as he stood up and strode towards one of the shelves. He scanned the row, trailing his fingers on the spines, though Arthur was at lost as to how he could differentiate the volumes since none of the spines bore a title.

"Are all the books in here about magic?"

"Pretty much, yes." He picked a book, then went on his perusal before adding: "A lot of them are fake, though. It seems the magical books business was a promising one at some point and since most of the buyers weren't sorcerers themselves, it wasn't that hard to fool them."

"Why did you buy them, then?"

"They're funny. Some of those people tried so hard to make their nonsense sound like spells. I actually had a contest with another sorcerer in one of the towns I settled in. The one with the most ridiculous spell won the dinner." Another book found its place in Merlin's arms. Arthur realised that was one of the first times the sorcerer talked about his life. He could picture him easily sat in a tavern with a young man, laughing at a particularly absurd line. The image made Arthur warm inside. Merlin went on, "Besides, they came in handy when times were hard. It's always been easy finding collectors willing to buy them. The originals, I mean. I'd never sell the copies I made."

He quickly added a few other books to his pile before handing it to Arthur.

"Here, you can begin with that."

"What am I looking for?"

"Anything about that mentions ghosts. I don't want to be too selective for now."

"That should be within the realm of my capabilities."

"I'm glad to hear it, your Highness."

"I see you learned how to address me, at last."

"Whatever. Be sure not to work too much, that might damage your untrained brain."

Arthur deigned not answer. Instead, he sat at the foot of the desk and opened his first book as the sorcerer resumed his own research.

Soon, though, the ghost realised he wouldn't be much help. The grain of the parchment, the fine, round handwriting and the detailed illuminations brought him back to his first life. He remembered evenings spent drafting treaties or writing a speech, listening Merlin going about his chores and babbling. The familiar sounds would soothe him. And when they weren't enough, the sorcerer would find a way to lessen the tension with a joke or a simple comment. He'd been lucky to meet someone who understood him so well and even luckier to find him again.

Arthur had barely reached the fifth page when a gasp from Merlin interrupted him.

"Did you find something?"

"Yes. Well, no, not about that but- You told me you're 32, right?"

"Yes, why?"

"I wrote down every spell I tried to keep track and I thought it might be quicker to see if something I've already tried might work in those new circumstances and-"

"You're babbling."

"Right. So I reached your birth year and you were right! That year I tried a spell that seemed to have worked. Since it was supposed to bring back someone's body and soul I went to the lake, figuring you'd returned from where your body was. I waited but you never came so I thought I was wrong and the spell hadn't worked. But it had. Only I wasn't looking in the right place."

Arthur felt dizzy. So Merlin was actually powerful enough to bring someone back from the dead. It was one thing to hear him say he could and to watch him try but another to know he'd succeeded, to be the proof he had. Before that, it had always been hard to grasp the amount of power Merlin had. The fact that he was the most powerful to ever have existed helped only to a certain point for someone who had no understanding of how magic worked or what it could do.

"Wow."

"I know. I brought you back! All this research and trials weren't useless after all. I brought you back!"

He collapsed into giggles. Arthur just stared at him in awe, not only at his power but also at the way he'd chosen to use it. He could have done so much more than being a servant, even with his kind heart - because Arthur refused to believe Merlin could ever have become evil. He could have gone somewhere his powers were accepted, become the right hand of a king. He could have protected his people, healed them, and helped their crops growing. He would have been loved by them and feared by his enemies. Everyone would have known his name. Yet instead, he'd chosen to be Arthur's servant, accepted to do his chores and be seen like a fool by most, all the while he'd protected Arthur in secret. The ghost could only feel humbled and admiring.

Merlin's laugh died down and he blushed. He briefly looked down but when he looked up again, all trace of shyness had disappeared from his eyes. His chin was high and he grinned. He had all the reasons to be proud of himself. Arthur definitely was. He was grateful that Merlin could feel his emotions too, because he could never have put them into words yet the sorcerer needed to know.

"Come on, now, this research won't do itself. We should go back to it."

Arthur nodded and hunched back on his book, trying - and failing - to focus more this time.

At the end of the day, they had selected all but three spells, each of which failed. The disappointed look on Merlin's face was too familiar to Arthur. He'd seen it so many times when the sorcerer would come out of the library after hours of research. It broke the ghost's heart. He was worried, too. He feared Merlin wouldn't cope well with the failures. What would he do if he couldn't find the right spell? What if it simply didn't exist? How long before Merlin would accept to stop searching? And what next? Arthur preferred not to think about it.

***

Sure enough, from that point Merlin buried himself in books with renewed ardour. That didn't mean he spent all his time researching but he made a point of spending at least an hour every day on his research. There were week-ends Arthur barely saw him and others where they lazed around doing nothing because Merlin couldn't keep his eyes from the ghost. Arthur helped as much as he could by reading the books he understood. Yet he refused to condone Merlin's insane hours of work so, when the sorcerer seemed settled in the library for the entire day or night or both, he simply left after some time with the hope his disappearance would bring Merlin out of the room. Sometime it did, sometimes not. At least he tried. He played the guinea pig too, for every spell Merlin felt like trying. He wondered how many the sorcerer actually believed could work and how many he tried out of desperation. He never asked. The spells, after all, never had any secondary effects and if trying helped Merlin keeping frustration at bay, then Arthur gladly humoured him.

It was one of these Sundays Merlin chose to spend researching and Arthur was bored. He'd finished perusing the books he could the week before so there wasn't anything left he could do to help the sorcerer in his work. He'd grown tired of reading and watching films too, which wasn't that surprising seeing as that had been almost his only pastime for the last five years. So he'd hoped Merlin would be in the mood to spend some time with him. Instead, Arthur was left watching the sorcerer explore digital libraries. He almost regretted the time Merlin couldn't use the computer alone. At least, his sudden moments of panic when he'd done something wrong provided some entertainment.

After some time, the ghost reckoned he could as well use the opportunity to do his own research. He moved behind Merlin and reached his hand towards him. He'd tried countless times before but never managed to touch him yet he refused to let his failures discourage him. He would try until it worked or Merlin found that spell to bring him back to life. So he focused his thoughts on Merlin's back and the worn fabric of his hoodie. Inch by inch, he moved his fingertips closer. Until they went through the sorcerer's body. So he tried again. And again. And again. And every time his heart broke a little because all he wanted was to touch the man he loved and he couldn't and that was so unfair.

"Arthur..." Merlin whispered after what felt like the thousandth attempt. He turned to face the ghost and wrapped him in his magic. "Stop that. You're making yourself miserable."

"If I don't try, I'll never be able to do it."

"And that will all have been for nothing when I bring you back. So there's no need to beat yourself up."

"Yes but when will that be? How long did it take you the first time? Decades? Centuries? I'm not living all this time without even trying to improve my condition. I've made progress lately. I don't see why I shouldn't have hopes."

"It'll be quicker than that. It used to be so time-consuming to research. I had to travel and get the authorisation to access the books I wanted and even like that, I didn't always have as much time as I needed and there was often someone to keep an eye on me so I couldn't make copies. Now I can read all these books from home and even if by far every existing book hasn't been digitised, that's a huge improvement. I'm sure I'll have that spell soon."

"What if you don't? What if you never find it?"

The magic hugging Arthur disappeared and Merlin stood up to face him.

"Is that what you think? That I can't do it? I'm so glad to see you believe in me."

"No! That's not what I meant! I-"

"I don't care! I brought you back once and I'll do it again! I don't need your support if you think so little of me."

"Merlin, I never said-"

The sorcerer interrupted him with a wave of the hand and sat back at the desk.

"Merlin, please, listen to me. I-"

"Just leave me alone."

Arthur hesitated but as Merlin began reading again, he realised he'd better do as he was told if he didn't want to make things worse. He transposed in his room with the hope its comfort would soothe him. It didn't.

Not for the first time, he feared turning down his only chance to leave this world had been a mistake. He'd realised now that Merlin had planned to bring him back to life ever since the day he learned Arthur was, well, _his_ Arthur. He'd never considered being stuck with a ghost, not even when Arthur had asked him if he'd rather have the ghost stay or get the closure he needed to move on. All this time he had only one thing in mind: to find the spell that would resuscitate Arthur and not once had he considered that such a spell might not exist. Even now, he refused to acknowledge that possibility. He'd devoted himself heart and soul to this quest, just as he had when he'd tried to bring Arthur back from Avalon. He only had his goal in mind and thought he would reach it unharmed but he wouldn't. He would hurt. He did already. Despite all his efforts to hide it, Arthur could tell how painful it was for him to have found the man he'd been waiting for so long and couldn't even touch him. Arthur could tell because he ached too and he hadn't been waiting for centuries. He couldn't imagine how Merlin must feel. He could only berate himself for thinking staying was a good idea. Of course, spending time with Merlin was wonderful but was it worth the price?

There wasn't much he could do about it now except making sure Merlin didn't waste his life on his research. He'd been glad to see him go out with former colleagues for a few weeks before he'd become visible. That could only have done him good to see other people. Those moments were an anchor in the outside world, a semblance of a normal life. Yet the meetings had stopped in favour of hours spent in the library or lazing around with Arthur. The ghost should encourage him to pick them up. For that, he needed to talk to Merlin, though, and as hours went by, it became clear the sorcerer didn't seem decided to do so.

Lunch time was long gone and Merlin hadn't come out of the library. Arthur reckoned a meal could work as a peace offering as well as a way to make sure the sorcerer ate something. So he transposed to the kitchen and cooked a simple plate of pasta with a tomato sauce the way Merlin had taught him. Once done, he went to the library.

Merlin still sat at his desk, reading a centuries-old handwriting on his screen. He didn't react to Arthur's presence even though the ghost was certain he could feel it. Well, at least he hadn't asked him to leave.

"I've made lunch," the ghost said softly only to be met by a stubborn silence. "It's your favourite pasta sauce," he tried again without more success. With a sigh, he transposed back to the kitchen.

There, he filled a plate with a generous serving, grabbed services and floated to the library again. Merlin continued to him as he came closer. The ghost carefully set the plate on what little space he could find on the desk.

"Please, you should eat."

Merlin didn't turn his gaze away from the screen.

"Look, I'm sorry if I offended you. I never meant to say I didn't believe in you. What I wanted to say is that there's a possibility that the spell you're looking for might not exist and we should both be prepared to admit it one day. It's good to have hopes and I have. But we need to be realistic too. And I'm afraid if you don't remind yourself sometimes that there's a possibility you might fail, you'll keep on chasing a mirage for the rest of your life. I don't want you to destroy yourself for me."

The sorcerer's eyes were still on the screen but they'd stopped scanning it. He'd listened, at least. Yet he remained silent. Arthur sighed again.

"Just… Eat something. Please."

With that, realising there wasn't much more he could do, he transposed to his room.

When, sometime later, he heard Merlin come out of the library and go down the stairs, Arthur hoped it meant he'd eaten and was taking his dishes to the kitchen. Then Merlin was standing on his doorstep, staring at his toes and fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"The pasta was delicious."

"Thank you."

There was a short pause before Merlin started: "Look I-"

"Come here," Arthur said at the same time.

That finally caused Merlin to look up. He smiled tentatively and the ghost smiled back. He left the armchair to sit on the floor as Merlin walked in. The sorcerer curled on the chair.

"I'm sorry," he said. "You're right about the spell. I just… I don't want to think about the possibility it might not exist. Not yet. I've been waiting for so long. I can't… I'm so close to having you entirely back I don't want to believe it might never work. Not before I've done everything I could."

"But when will you decide you have? I understand you don't want to think about it but… As I said, I'm afraid you waste your life chasing a mirage."

"There's nothing much left to waste."

"Merlin… Don't say that. Please."

"I've lived for so long. I've enjoyed it for a while. I've visited almost every country in the world. I've met people, loved them and buried them. I've had my share. I'm not missing on anything by devoting myself to my research."

"But it's not healthy. You can't spend all your free time in your books. It'll drive you mad."

"I spend time with you too. Or..." Merlin frowned. "Is that what it's all about? I'm not spending enough time with you?"

"No." Arthur sighed and rubbed at his face. "No, it's not about me. It's about you. I know it hurts you to be with me when you can't even touch me. You-"

"I can take it!"

"For how long?"

Arthur paused to give the sorcerer time to answer but he remained silent.

"Merlin, I'm worried for you. I know you think you can take it and I know you want to devote your time to me and your research. I can't say I understand how you feel because…Well, because I haven't lived nowhere near as long as you have but I can see why you'd want to do that only… I'm afraid it'll break you down."

"What should I do then? Give you up?"

"No! But you could spend time outside, with other people."

"Arthur… There's a reason I don't have friends. I told you already. It hurts too much."

"I know but you changed your mind, didn't you? You used to go to the pub with your ex-colleagues. You could do it again, don't you think?"

Merlin took a deep breath that he released in a long sigh then buried his face in his knees.

"I know it sounds horrible but… I only went because I wanted to get you out of my head. I thought if I spent less time here, I could let go of this stupid crush I had on the ghost haunting my house."

"Don't you like them?"

"It's not that. It's just… It's not easy to pass for an ordinary bloke. It's alright in the shop because I only talk about books with the customers and mostly with Joan too but outside of work it's… It gets tricky. I can try all I want, I'll never be like them. I fit in enough to be accepted, even if I'll always be the odd duck but… There are so many things I don't understand, so many codes and trends and everything changes so quickly. It's hard to keep track. And it's tiring. And I'm so old, Arthur, I… I don't remember how it felt to be their age. And anyway times were so different, even if I did, I still couldn't relate. I can play a role. I can observe and copy their behaviour because that's what I've done all my life. Sometimes, I can even enjoy it somewhat but in the end, I still… I still feel so alone."

A tear rolled down Merlin's cheek and he wiped it with the back of his hand. Arthur's heart broke. He'd never realised what socialising could mean for the sorcerer. In his own, naive view, because he'd spent so much time without any social interaction, spending time with people could only be positive.

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault... That's the reason why I clicked with you, I think. What with you being a ghost and having been removed for the world for some time, you didn't really have any expectation. I don't mean being the first person to talk with you in years would have excused anything but… I didn't have to make so many efforts to fit in. It was easy."

"It's not that easy anymore, is it?"

"Nothing has ever been easy between us, Arthur. I didn't expect your return to be any different." Merlin looked down at the ghost and smiled despite his wet eyes. "I'm glad you're back anyway."

His magic wrapped around Arthur who revelled in the warmth sensation on his skin.

"I'm still worried for you," the ghost said after a while.

"I know. But I can do this. It's hard but it was hard before. At least, now you're here."

"If I can do anything, just tell me, right?"

Merlin nodded. There was a pause during which Arthur thought the conversation was over then suddenly the sorcerer left the armchair to sit opposite him on the floor.

"Actually, there's something."

"Yes?"

"I'd like you to stop trying to touch me."

"What? Merlin, I-"

The sorcerer raised a hand but it was the pain in his eyes that interrupted Arthur.

"I know you want to try. I understand, believe me. And I wouldn't mind but… Arthur, I can feel your hopes being crushed every time you fail. I can feel your heart break. It's hard enough to see you can't do it no matter how hard you try but with the way I can feel what you feel, it's just too much."

"Shit… Merlin, I… I'm sorry, I never realised-"

"It's alright."

Merlin tried to smile to reassure him but it was so at odd with the sadness in his eyes that it had the opposite effect. How could he have forgotten that Merlin could feel everything he felt? How could he not have thought how much that could hurt him?

"Please, Arthur, don't beat yourself up. You're not helping."

The ghost winced.

"Sorry."

"Try not to think too much about it. I know it's weird but there's nothing you can do against it. If anything you'll make it worse."

"I'll do my best."

Merlin thanked him with a smile, still tentative but not as forced as before. His magic let go of Arthur's chest to concentrate in a ribbon around his wrist, stroking it lightly.

As a companionable silence settled, Arthur realised he'd gotten it wrong all along. He'd wanted to give Merlin a normal life but that wasn't something he could ever have. Maybe Arthur should concentrate on making him happy instead. Maybe it was time to stop doubting his choice to stay in this world and to make the best of what he had, even though it would never feel like it was enough.

Slowly the light came back in Merlin's eyes. As he watched Arthur, a soft smile returned to his lips. The ghost could have spent the rest of the day just looking at him, at the way the sunlight made his hair shine and his eyes sparkle. He might spend most of his nights watching him in his sleep, he felt he would never get tired of that sight. Yet Arthur realised his tolerance for idle moments had increased a lot since he'd become a ghost and Merlin's idea of a nice afternoon might not be staring at each other in silence.

"We could go for a walk," the ghost suggested

The magic stilled on Arthur's arm.

"But you can't go outside."

"Obviously I can since I went all the way to your shop. It's just… I feel better in the house but I'm also tired of never going out. And well, now we can walk together without having you talking at empty space. We could try... Unless you don't want to? "

"No, no, I do! It'd be great," Merlin answered with a grin.

His magic squeezed Arthur's hand and a moment later he disappeared into his room to change.

Arthur transposed to the hallway where he found a pair of shoes he put on. The good thing in being weightless was and not having to actually walk was that he didn't really matter if his shoes fitted as long as they were large enough for him to put his feet in. His fake walking needed practice so he chose to pace while waiting for Merlin to get ready. When the sorcerer appeared he was wearing his favourite dinosaur shirt and Arthur almost sent him back to his room to change. But then Merlin grinned. He was practically bouncing with delight as he walked down the stairs. Arthur didn't have the heart to tell him his shirt was ugly. If wearing that could make him happy, Arthur could survive the relative shame of being seen with someone having so poor fashion sense.

"So is there somewhere in particular you want to go?" the sorcerer asked.

"Just somewhere not too crowded."

"Noted."

"Are you ready, then?"

Merlin nodded vigorously. Arthur couldn't help grinning.

"Let's go then," the ghost said, heading to the door.

"Um, Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"You've been floating for the last five minutes."

The ghost looked down. Indeed, his feet were a few inches above the ground. That clearly was the downside of being weightless. This wouldn't do. He couldn't concentrate on walking and not flying and at the same time, have a conversation with Merlin. He wondered if going out was really such a good idea after all.

"Hey, it'll be alright," the sorcerer said, weaving his magic around Arthur's hand. "I'll just keep an eye on you and squeeze your arm if you're floating and your hand if you've stopped walking."

His smile was enough to give Arthur some confidence. He simply couldn't turn back now, not when Merlin was so excited. So he smiled back and opened the door for Merlin.

Once outside, they quickly left the neighbourhood to decrease the chances of running into someone who knew Arthur. They didn't talk much. The ghost was too concentrated on his efforts to appear normal but Merlin didn't mind, judging by the grin that hadn't left his lips.

It was strange to be out of the house again, especially without real purpose. The two previous times, he'd been too engrossed in his discoveries and his need to find Merlin to actually think about what was happening around him. Now he could take everything in: the people hurrying somewhere only they knew, the ones strolling around, walking their dog or simply enjoying the sun, the children trotting merrily beside their parents. Even the quiet streets Arthur and Merlin walked through were teeming with a life the ghost had long since lost and might never find again. It made it hard for him to share Merlin's cheerful mood.

Surprisingly, Arthur didn't feel the usual pull on his chest, reminding him with every step that he was going farther from home. That didn't mean he felt comfortable, though. After years of invisibility, people were looking at him, if only to avoid bumping into him, and their gazes made him self-conscious and left him longing for the safety of his house. Merlin must have picked up his uneasiness because his magic was a comforting sensation on Arthur's hand, squeezing every now and then to remind the ghost to walk.

"Do you want to go back?"

Arthur was very tempted to say he did but also didn't want to disappoint Merlin by going home so soon.

"No. I'll be alright."

He'd seen worse, after all. A long, long time ago he'd fought armies and magical beasts. He might know now that his survival was more due to Merlin than his own skills but at that time, he still had the courage to face those threats with the only help of who he'd thought was nothing more than a very brave servant. King Arthur wouldn't have wavered because of a few stares, no matter how anxious they made him feel.

He'd done so many things in his past life, it was strange to compare it to the quiet and sheltered existence he had now. To think King Arthur couldn't bear spend a day doing nothing and hated when cold winters prevented him to train outside. How horrified would he have been to see his new self?

"I miss Camelot," he said after a while, though he couldn't tell if it was really Camelot he missed or the man he'd been.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Merlin shoot him a surprised glance. They didn't talk much about their past lives. Arthur felt it wasn't a topic they should avoid but belatedly realised Merlin might avoid it because it hurt. A second later, though, Merlin's lips tugged into a mischievous smile.

"I bet it's the crown."

Arthur snorted.

"And the weight of a whole kingdom on my shoulders? I can't say I miss that part."

It wasn't entirely true, though. Though being King had come with a great amount of pressure and responsibilities, he'd enjoyed it. There, at least, he'd been useful. His opinion had mattered and he'd had the power of make things change. Yet that wasn't what he'd had in mind.

"What then?"

"Hunting trips."

Merlin whined.

"Of all the things, you have to miss killing animals. You can't be serious."

"It's funny because you never complained when I always let the best parts on my plate at the end of the banquets so you could pinch them. Did you, _Mer_ lin?"

"That's…" Merlin retorted vehemently but words failed him and the tip of his ears turned red. "That's because the poor deer was already dead. Its life would have been wasted if we didn't eat him."

Arthur chuckled.

"Of course, if you say so."

The ghost stole a glance in Merlin's direction and for a moment, seeing him there searching for a witty retort, he almost felt like he was back in Camelot, bantering with his servant before a long council meeting. Maybe that was what he missed. But now, he had Merlin right there with him. He wasn't exactly the same Merlin but himself wasn't exactly the same Arthur he'd been back in Camelot.

A press on his hand roused him from his thoughts. He shot the sorcerer a questioning glance and was answered with a pointed stare at his feet. Oh, right, walking.

"Anyway," he said, picking up their conversation where he'd left it. "It's not the killing animals’ part I was thinking about."

"You want me to believe there's something else to hunting?"

"Don't look at me like that! Of course, there is. I miss the trips in the woods with the knights, right? And the excitement in the camp at night when we'd made a big catch. Despite your natural tendency to scare all game away with your clumsiness, I should add."

"I'm so glad you to see you how you remember me."

"Nah, I also remember you for being the worst manservant of the kingdom, don't worry."

"It's good to know you're still a prat."

"I wouldn't want to disappoint you."

Merlin laughed. His magic squeezed Arthur's hand but that had nothing to do with him forgetting to walk that time. The ghost only wished he could squeeze back.

They fell silent for a while before Merlin whispered: "I miss Camelot too. Even if I don't remember it as much as you."

"You don't?"

The sorcerer shook his head.

"It's been 15 centuries for me. I'd have gone mad long ago if I remembered everything I've lived. That's why I wrote the book you found, about you. To remember."

"Wouldn't it have been better to forget me?"

"I couldn't. I kept forgetting little things but I couldn't forget _you_. I didn't want your death to be my last memory of you."

Arthur wasn't sure what to say to that. He still couldn't quite believe Merlin had been waiting for him for so long. He was spared the trouble by a poodle running towards him. It wasn't that Arthur was afraid of dogs, of course not. But that one was wearing a retractable leash its owner, an elderly lady carrying a grocery bag, seemed to have no intention to block. A few feet more and the dog would go right through him.

Arthur froze. He should run. But what if the poodle ran after him? And how _did_ you run? Walking was one thing but- The bag slipped from the woman's hand and spilled its content on the pavement. Arthur stared as she cursed and crouched to pick up her groceries. The dog had stopped for a second but had picked up his race towards him, its owner too busy to notice Arthur's unease. Could it feel there was something wrong with him?

Merlin's magic pulled on his arm and roused him from his stupor. Arthur quickly walked out of reach of the dog and stayed well away while Merlin helped the woman collect her things. The ghost was still staring when the woman straightened up, drowned the sorcerer with a flow of thanks and walked away.

"Hey," Merlin murmured as he came closer to Arthur. His magic weaved around his wrist and stroked it lightly. "It's alright now. Let's go home, shall we?"

The ghost nodded absently. He'd thought going out was safe as long as he stayed away from busy streets. But if the woman hadn't let her bag fall, or as he suspected if Merlin hadn't provided the diversion… Arthur didn't want to know what would have happened.  He followed as Merlin set off but his mind was still on what had just happened. Hopefully, the street was empty. He wasn't sure he could have borne passers-by's gazes. He felt naked, his unnaturalness laid bare for everyone to see, even though he knew they couldn't see. This walk hadn't been a good idea, after all. All he wanted was to transpose home and hide.

Merlin stopped abruptly a few minutes later. Arthur didn't notice at once and had to go a few feet back.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Arthur, you're not walking. And you're floating."

The ghost looked down. The sight of his feet inches above the ground sent a cold wave along his spine. There he was so afraid to be discovered he managed to forget to move like a living being. Grand. He promptly lowered himself with renewed longing for his room.

"Sorry."

"It's alright. But I need you to concentrate until we get home. Can you do that?"

His magic traced imaginary patterns on Arthur's back. Its softness and warmth soothed the ghost a little.

"Yes. I-I think I can."

"Good."

They walked in silence as Arthur was too busy keeping his thoughts on the task of walking. Hopefully, they hadn't wandered too far from home and they soon reached the house.

Once there, Arthur made for his room and huddled up a corner. He'd hoped the familiar surroundings would calm him but they did little to keep his imagination from running wild. He realised now how risky it was to go out. It was a miracle no one had noticed him the day he'd gone to Merlin's shop. Anyway, he didn't think he'd dare do it again, no matter how tired he was to stay inside. It was too dangerous. He only hoped Merlin wouldn't be too disappointed. He'd seemed so thrilled to finally go outside with him. So long for making him happy.

"Hey."

Arthur looked up to see Merlin in front of him. He must be floating because the sorcerer's face was level with his. His magic cupped his cheek.

"Are you alright?" Merlin asked softly.

"I'm sorry."

"Nothing happened, Arthur. You don't have to apologize."

"But what if it had? That dog would have run straight through me if you hadn’t-"

"It doesn't matter. It didn't happen. We'll be more careful next time."

"I don't think there'll be a next time."

"Don't say that. It was fun, wasn't it?"

"Of course but-"

"You know, I've learned in many occasions that people tend to go for the more rational explanations when something weird happen. This woman probably would have told herself she'd imagined things. I'm sure you've experienced this with the people you tried to scare. Their first conclusion wasn't that the house was haunted, was it?"

Arthur pondered. He hadn't considered it that way and he could see Merlin's point but betting on people being so rational they'd overlook any supernatural evidence seemed a bit risky.

"No. But that's different. People can see me now. And what if they're in a group? They won't believe in a collective hallucination."

"I don't know. But does it even matter? No one would believe their story. And even if someone did, it's not as if they could hurt you."

"It's not for me I'm worried."

"Arthur..."

Merlin's magic slowly wrapped itself around Arthur's chest. The ghost wished he could wave it away. He didn't feel he deserved being comforted, not when he couldn't even give Merlin something as simple as a walk.

"I'm sorry. I thought I could do it but it's… It's just too stressful."

The magic squeezed tighter. A ribbon caressed his neck. There was so much sympathy in Merlin's eyes Arthur couldn't bear to look at him.

"What if we went to the countryside?" the sorcerer suggested after a pause. "Somewhere we would be alone? Do you think you could go that far?"

"I'm not sure. We could try. But how do we get there?"

"By car, obviously."

Arthur straightened up and looked at Merlin with wide eyes.

"You can drive?"

"Of course I can! Don't look so surprised! Do I have to remind you I was there when the first car was invented? I'm not so useless I never managed to learn since then, you know."

"But do you manage not to get lost?"

"It's not my fault if maps were inaccurate in the 5th century."

"Yeah, well other people did fine."

Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Fine, since you insist on being rude, I’ll be in the kitchen cooking myself dinner."

His smile took the bite off his words. Arthur decided he'd moped enough and followed him to help with the cooking.

***

Two weeks later Arthur and Merlin left London in a small rental car. The ghost hadn't forgotten the dog accident and he was jerky at the thought of going out of the house again. For now, though, the metal body separating him from the outside world helped him soothe his anxiety. He focused on the houses passing before his eyes, rediscovering familiar places he hadn't seen for so long.

Merlin was a smooth, careful driver, which surprised Arthur a little. He'd reckoned someone immortal wouldn't be too cautious. Then he realised it was probably more out of fear of hurting others than himself.

"Are you alright?" the sorcerer asked as they reached the suburbs, shooting him an umpteenth glance.

"Yes. It's strange. I don't feel like I used to when I got away from the house. No discomfort. Nothing."

"Could be because you're visible now. You've been improving."

"I don't think so. It was different when I went to your shop. I don't think I could have gone much farther that day."

Merlin shrugged.

"I guess we'll never know. It doesn't really matter, after all."

"No, it makes sense, I think."

"What do you mean?"

"If my destiny was to find you then I had to stay in the house until you came there. Now that I accomplished that, there's no more reason for me to stay there."

"I thought you didn't believe in destiny?"

"Yeah, well… It's difficult not to, now."

Merlin gave him a crooked smile.

"Is that you admitting you were wrong?"

"Shut up, Merlin."

The sorcerer did but not without sporting a winning grin. Arthur held back a groan.

"Anyway, you still haven't told me where we were going."

"I thought I should shut up?"

"Merlin!"

"Alright, alright. It's a surprise."

"I'm not sure I trust you on this. Are you sure we're not going to get lost?"

"Mmm… Let me see… You've been living in London for 33 years where I've been here for-"

"Right, I get it," Arthur said, throwing his hands up in the air in surrender. "I'll just… Follow you, I guess."

Merlin chuckled.

They kept bickering until the sorcerer parked the car in a small, empty parking space in the middle of nowhere. Arthur still had no idea what their destination was but at least, chances were they wouldn't cross path with too many people. Merlin grabbed his backpack and led them to a trail.

It was a sunny day, warm judging by the t-shirt Merlin was wearing. It had been so long since Arthur had seen the countryside, he'd forgotten how many different greens the fields could be. He'd always been more of a city-dweller and never one to go hiking on the weekend but he could still appreciate the scenery. It left him with an odd sense of fulfilment, as if after spending years trapped inside his house being there in the fresh air he couldn't breathe was an accomplishment.

The feeling lingered when a few moments later the trail entered a wood.

"You said you missed hunting trips. I know it's not the same but I thought you might like a walk in the forest."

Arthur thanked him with a smile and Merlin's magic weaved itself around his fingers.

As they walked, Arthur realised there was something off, though. This place was so polished, so dead compared to his memories. The ghost suddenly felt out of his time. He appreciated Merlin's gesture and he was glad to be here, surrounded by trees, but it didn't bring him the satisfaction he'd expected. Instead, it left him with a melancholy he'd never experienced before. He longed for a place that no longer existed.

His thoughts went to Merlin. How many places he cherished had disappeared? How could he cope going through centuries unscathed as the world changed around him?

"It's so different from Camelot."

Merlin's sad smile was enough to confirm he felt the same.

"Do you miss the way it was?"

"I miss the magic."

"But you still have it."

"It's not the same. The woods used to radiate with magic. It was everywhere: in the trees and the earth and the moss, from the smallest insect to deer and bears. And it flowed in me. I felt… Connected, in a way, part of nature. I felt like I belonged there. But now…" His voice was barely louder than a whisper. He closed his eyes and sighed before going on.  "There's little magic left here. It's disappearing. First, the dragons and all the other magical creatures were gone, then the sorcerers. There are places in the world where magic is stronger but ultimately it will cease to exist."

Arthur's heart sat heavy in his chest. He wished there was something he could do to comfort his friend. Even if nothing could make this right, he wished he could at least take Merlin in his arms and whisper sweet nothing in his ears. He'd wondered why Merlin rarely talked about magic despite having said he'd teach him what there was to know about it. Now Arthur could see why he avoided the topic.

"I'm scared. Magic's such an important part of me." His voice broke. His magic squeezed Arthur's hand tighter and the ghost wished he could squeeze back. "It's not only what I couldn't do without it, it's… I already feel so empty now, I can't imagine how it'll be when magic's gone. I hope..." He trailed off to wipe a tear on his cheek.

Arthur wasn't sure he wanted to hear more. It hurt too much. But he also wanted Merlin to know he could confide in him. So he encouraged him. "Yes?"

"I hope magic's what keeping me here."

The ghost turned to him, more pained than surprised by the meaning behind his words. Before he could say anything, though, Merlin shook his head.

"Listen to me being all dramatic when all I wanted was to spend a nice day with you. Don't pay attention to my ramblings. I'm just an old man."

"Merlin..."

"Nah, forget it."

He tried to smile and though it wasn't convincing Arthur chose to leave it. There wasn't much he could do anyway apart from offering empty words of comfort. He deserved a break. He deserved to have a day away from his books, a day to forget his pain and spend time with the man he'd waited for so long.

Merlin must have had the same idea because he jerked his head towards the river running a hundred yards from the trail.

"The first to the river wins!"

Before Arthur could react, the sorcerer was running.

"Hey! Wait! I can't run!"

"There's no one to see you, dollophead!"

Arthur judged the distance. Merlin was already far ahead, catching him up would be hard even with his flying speed. So the ghost simply transposed to the riverside. The sorcerer arrived a few moments later, panting loudly, his cheeks red. He leaned forward and rested his hand on his knees.

"You cheated!"

The ghost grinned.

"You never said I couldn't do that."

"You… You just..." he trailed off, having to catch his breath.

"I what? I've seen you more eloquent, Merlin."

As Arthur teased him, a wicked grin spread over the sorcerer's face. The ghost felt his magic on his sides. It was just a brush at first and he wondered why Merlin seemed so pleased about.  Then it started tickling him.

"Hey! You can't!" he protested before losing it and bursting into laughter.

"That's for cheating!"

"I didn't! It's not… My fault if you forgot... to set rules." 

Unable to defend himself, he could only wriggle under Merlin's amused gaze. He floated haphazardly and tried to back away in the hope he could get out of reach but he had no such luck. Despite his begging for mercy, Merlin didn't give up. Soon Arthur found himself in the water. He could feel it flowing around his ankle, cold but surprisingly not wet. It couldn't soak his skin and simply glided on it. Another fit of laughter prevented him from dwelling longer on the sensation.

The fact that Arthur was solid enough to deviate water from its course could prove useful, though. An idea found its way in Arthur's mind. A Merlin took a step closer to the river, the ghost kicked in his direction and sprayed him with water. The tickling ceased instantly. Instead, Merlin ran into the water and proceeded to retaliate by splashing Arthur profusely. As their laughter echoed in the woods, the ghost thought that maybe it wouldn't be that difficult to make Merlin forget his troubles for a day.

***

"Arthur!" Merlin's shout came from the library. "Arthur! I found it!"

The book the ghost was holding crashed on the floor. A heartbeat later he stood next to Merlin.

"I found it!" the sorcerer repeated. His grin was so huge his eyes disappeared beneath the crinkles on his face.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Well, not entirely. But! I'm pretty confident. More than I've ever been."

Arthur covered his mouth with a hand. Tears blurred his vision. For a moment he couldn't speak, only stare at Merlin beaming. His whole being felt so light he was certain he was floating higher than usual and couldn't do a thing about it.

"That's…" he began, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat before going on. "That’s brilliant! Shall we try now?"

"No. It requires a lot of magic. Remember when I told you some places had more magic than others?"

The ghost nodded.

"We need to go to one of these places. I want to increase the odds as much as possible."

Arthur came slowly back down until his feet touched the floor.

"Oh…" Arthur came slowly back down until his feet touched the floor. Such a place could only be somewhere wild, remote from men's influence. "We won't be able to try any time soon then."

"It's only a few hours’ drive."

"What?"

Merlin's grin was blinding. He nodded vigorously as if to confirm that the ghost had heard right.  Arthur bit his lip.

"When do we leave?"

"Let me pack a few things and I'll go straight to rent a car."

***

The sun was setting as they parked the car in front of a small log house. They had stayed away from the motorway for most of the journey and taken small roads in the countryside then through the forest instead. More than once Arthur had been certain Merlin had missed a turn, busy singing with the radio at the top of his lungs as he was, but Merlin assured him he could have driven there in his sleep. The ghost preferred not put this affirmation to the test.

"So, will you finally tell me where we are?" Arthur asked as he took in the view around him.

The house was nestled in the trees. There wasn't even enough space for a parking place, the dirt road just stopped in front of the door and Merlin had left the car there. The lantern Merlin lit with a word wasn't enough to break the Arthur's discomfort. The place was so crammed, the nature left wild, he felt almost claustrophobic.

"You'll see."

"Oh come on. We're here now, why don't you just tell me?"

Merlin didn't answer. Instead, he wrapped his magic around Arthur's hand and led him, not inside as Arthur had expected, but around the house on a narrow path.

On the other side of the cabin, Arthur discovered an entirely different landscape. The forest stopped on par with the porch to give place to a meadow. The grass led in a gentle slope to the still waters of a lake, its surface set ablaze by the setting sun. The atmosphere here was peaceful, far from bleakness Arthur had felt at his arrival. Merlin's magic squeezed his hand.

"Do you recognise it?"

The island, topped by the ruins of a tower,standing at a distance seemed familiar yet the ghost was certain he'd never visited that place. He could feel Merlin's gaze on him, serious and expectant. The excitement he'd shown in the car seemed to have receded. Arthur wondered where his grin had gone. Then the memories came back. The blinding pain, first, then the tears in Merlin's eyes.

"This is where I… Merlin! Why on Earth would you choose to come here?"

"I lived here for a while, actually."

"You what?"

"I was supposed to wait for you to rise from Avalon, remember?"

"So you just… Stayed here?"

Merlin nodded slowly. Arthur stared aghast, wondering how someone could put himself through much pain.

"Story for another time. Why don't we bring you back to life first?"

Arthur had an overwhelming need to know, to hear more about Merlin's life because he never talked about it, yet the ghost overcame it. There would be plenty of time for that later. He shot a last glance at the shore where he'd died so many centuries before then turned to the sorcerer with a smile.

"I'm all in your hands," he said as he floated towards the house.

"Careful, I might take you at your word."

"Don't see why I should regret it."

"I've got centuries worth of lost time to make up for."

Merlin put a hand on the door handle and waggled his eyebrows at Arthur. The ghost chuckled.

"Now, aren't we boasting a little?"

"Nah, I can keep you up all night. Just wait and see."

They entered a living room, much plainer than the one in London. There was no trace of knick-knacks here, only a leather couch, a coffee table and a fireplace. Huge windows overlooked the lake.

"Unless it's too much for you, of course," Merlin added as he crossed the room to reach a door in the opposite wall.

Arthur pulled a wounded face.

"It sounds like you don't know me at all. Are you sure you're my Merlin?"

"Shut up and lie down."

The sorcerer indicated the bed with a jerk of the head. Arthur obeyed and shot Merlin a lopsided smile.

"Bossy."

"You like it, don't you?"

"Right now, what I'd like is less talking and more action."

Merlin chuckled.

"Let me concentrate then."

With these words, he attempted school his features. The result was a furrowed brow and wrinkled nose that made the ghost laugh out loud.

"Arthur!" the sorcerer chastised but he couldn't retain a smile. Arthur shot up his hands to mime innocence. "Come on, let's do this."

The ghost nodded and this time he kept still. Merlin's voice rose, low and steady. With his shoulders back, his arms held out in front of him, and the golden glow of his eyes, he radiated power in a way that Arthur had never seen before, not even during their countless experiments. Although he didn't understand a word, Arthur could only imagine him commanding the power of the world to give the ghost his life back. He watched, fascinated.

As the words flowed from Merlin's mouth, Arthur could feel the atmosphere change in the room. It was nothing palpable but there was something in the air, like a buzz or the static electricity just before a strike of lightning. It left him with goose bumps and a flutter in his belly. Nothing of the sort had ever happened before. Surely that could only be a good sign. It was all he could do not to shift restlessly in anticipation. He was too afraid the smallest gesture could make everything fail.

Then suddenly the buzz stopped. Merlin blinked several times. His eyes were blue again. Only Arthur didn't feel any different.

"Merlin?"

"I-I don't understand. It was so close."

The ghost's stomach sank.

"It's alright. It's not your fault."

"No! No, I don't understand! It's the right spell, I know it! I could feel it! I just have to find what went wrong!"

"Merlin..."

But the sorcerer was already back to his incantation.

He failed again only to try once more. The buzz became weaker with every attempt, Merlin's voice more strained, until he staggered form exhaustion. And yet he persevered.

"Merlin, stop. It's not working."

"No, I can do it! I know I can!"

"You're barely standing. It's no use."

"But I'm so close!"

"Merlin, if you pass out, I won't be able to take care of you."

That finally made the sorcerer waver. He frowned and Arthur could almost hear him argue with himself. Then his hands fell limp at his sides. His shoulders slumped as his determination left him. He slumped on the bed, staring at empty space. The ghost wasn't sure which was worse, the disappointment or Merlin looking so lost. He sat up beside him.

"I'm sorry," the sorcerer whispered.

"It's not your fault."

"I was so sure..." His voice broke and Arthur's heart with it.

"I know."

They fell silent, the weight of their crushed hopes burdening their shoulders and constricting their throat.  The barrier between them was more intolerable than ever and Arthur was painfully aware of the proximity of Merlin's body. They should have been in each other’s arms by now, clinging on to each other as if their lives depended on it. Fate was too cruel. Or maybe they'd been foolish to come here so full of hope when their past experiments should have taught them to keep their feet firmly on the ground.


	6. Chapter 6

If Arthur had thought the failure of their latest experiment would discourage Merlin, he was soon proven wrong. It had, in fact, the opposite effect. Being too close to success had given the sorcerer the proof that his goal was indeed attainable. He'd determined it wasn't his magic that had failed but the spell that wasn't exactly the one they were looking for. As a consequence, his devotion to his research redoubled.

Merlin put a lot of hopes in the digital library in which he'd found the spell he'd tested in Avalon. Therefore he spent most of his free time perusing every book it contained. He never tried anything, though, unlike he'd used to. Arthur guessed he didn't want to get their hopes up unless he was certain to have found the right spell.

A month had passed since their last experiment when Merlin sat down on the floor of Arthur's room at the foot of his armchair. The ghost marked his page and closed his books. He looked down, expecting the sorcerer to say something but he only stared at his hands clasped in his lap.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes. I... I just wanted to ask you something."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at Merlin's unease.

"Go on."

"Tomorrow's my day off so… I-I was wondering if you'd fancy a trip to Avalon."

The ghost gasped.

"Does that mean you…? You found something?"

"I might have. I don't know. I don't want to get too excited."

"Of course."

But Arthur's chest was already full of hope. He understood Merlin's hesitation yet he also knew the sorcerer wouldn't have mentioned a spell unless he was confident it would work.

They left early the next morning. The atmosphere in the car was heavy with anxiety and contained hope, far from carefreeness that had reigned on their last trip. They barely talked.

Once in the cabin, they went straight to the bedroom. As before, Arthur lied down while Merlin stood next to the bed. But the sorcerer did nothing.

"Is there something wrong?"

"If this doesn't work, I'm not sure anything else will."

"Well, we won't know until we try," Arthur said, hoping his voice sounded more confident than he was.

He wasn't sure he could bear another disappointment.

"Right. Let's do it then."

Merlin rummaged through his backpack and took a handful of herbs. With a word, they were set ablaze, then the flames disappeared to leave only smoke. The sorcerer closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

When his voice filled the room, it wasn't monotonous as it had been the last time. Instead he was chanting on a bizarre, dissonant melody. The hand in which he held the herbs roamed over Arthur. There was a buzz in the room again, growing louder as Merlin sang. The ghost could feel the prickling of magic on his skin. He'd grown used to it around Merlin but it was becoming stronger now, enveloping him.

The song sped up. The sorcerer's voice grew tense, almost frantic. The buzz was so loud Arthur was tempted to bring his hands to his ears to block off the sound but he didn't dare to lest he broke the enchantment. Magic wasn't merely brushing his skin anymore, it was seeping through it, through his whole body. He could feel its warmth inside him. It roamed in his chest. Then it found his heart and squeezed it. It was all Arthur could do not to scream at the pain. Then suddenly, all noise stopped.

Merlin wasn't chanting anymore. He seemed frozen mid-sentence, his hand raised above Arthur. Silence was broken by a loud thump. Then another. And another. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. So loud in his ears. As the ghost started to panic, he felt something pulling at him from the ground, pulling hard. His stomach lurched as he fell a few inches down on the mattress. He gasped loudly only to be seized by a coughing fit. He bent over, tears rolling on his cheeks at the pain in his chest. Then it dawned on him that he'd never coughed before, simply because as a ghost, he didn't breathe.

"Arthur! Arthur are you alright?"

Unable to answer, Arthur waved a hand to indicate that, yes, he might not seem right now but he was alright. He was alive.

When finally, the coughing stopped, he looked up to see Merlin staggering on his feet. His eyelids drooped. Then he fell forward. Arthur jerked up, arms open, to prevent his fall. And it worked. Merlin didn't go through him, didn't face-plant on the mattress, he was there, in his arms. His body was warm against Arthur's.

"It worked! Merlin, it worked! I can hold you!"

The sorcerer was too exhausted to do anything but groan. Arthur gently lowered him in on the bed, though the process proved more difficult than he'd thought as Merlin's limp body didn't offer any help. Once satisfied, Arthur lied down beside him and put an arm around his waist. Apparently, the sorcerer wasn't asleep yet because he cuddled against him.

"You're back," he whispered barely loud enough to be heard.

Seconds later, he was sleeping. Arthur put a kiss in his hair, amazed by the softness against his lips. He felt tired too. And heavy. Had he always been so heavy? And had Merlin always been so warm? He was asleep before he could search his memories for an answer.

***

Arthur woke up to a pain in his stomach and something brushing his arm up and down, almost tickling him. He was also very aware of the mattress under him and the combination of these sensations was almost too much for him. He jerked his arm and the thing touching him stilled. This was better, less overwhelming. He didn't want to open his eyes just yet. Everything felt so different, he needed time to collect himself. He took in the softness of the sheets and the heaviness of his body. Then he noticed the rise and fall of his chest, a reflex he'd lost years ago. He focused on the movement to make it more of a conscious process and revelled in the sensation of his lungs filling with a deep intake of air. That, more than anything else, made him feel alive. He was back.

He opened his eyes with the urge to share this moment with Merlin only to find him awake and watching him. Arthur's heart swelled at the awe written over his face.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," the sorcerer whispered.

Only then did Arthur realised the light weight on his arm was that of Merlin's fingers. His breath caught in his chest. It wasn't much, not even a caress, barely a contact, yet it filled Arthur with a rush of joy and warmth. Then Merlin splayed his fingers on his skin and Arthur's eyes closed as he bit back a moan. When he opened them again, it was to see tears rolling on the sorcerer's cheeks. Their gaze met and before Arthur could react, Merlin threw himself at him and squeezed him so hard he feared his ribs would crack. Once he'd recovered from the shock, Arthur tentatively squeezed back. The last thing he wanted was to hurt his lover because he couldn't control his strength.

As Merlin whispered his name again and again, Arthur catalogued the myriad of sensations that threatened to overwhelm him. The solid warmth of his lover's body, the wetness of his tears on his neck, the weight of his leg flung around his, his hair brushing his cheek, his breath against his skin. So many feeling he'd taken for granted before his death. He felt now as if he'd never fully appreciated the wonders of holding a loved one in his arms. After years as an intangible being, Arthur was on the verge of sensory overload and, at the same time, felt like this moment would never last long enough for him to absorb enough sensations.

“Merlin,” he breathed. He liked the way the name rolled on his tongue, so much more real than when he’d been a ghost.

The sorcerer moved back a little to look at Arthur. Despite his tears, his grin was blinding.

“You’re back. You’re finally back.”

 “Thanks to you.”

Arthur brushed Merlin’s cheek, his hand shaking as much because of the feeling of Merlin’s skin against his fingertips as the fear of hurting him.

“I love you.”

Arthur smiled but before he could answer the pain in his stomach reminded him of its existence and he winced.

“Are you alright?” Merlin immediately inquired.

“Yeah. Don’t worry.”

It wasn’t worth the disappointment of letting go of Merlin, after all. It might be nothing. It had been so long since Arthur felt anything of the sort, he couldn't tell what could be the cause of it but he was probably overreacting. Everything did seem so much stronger than he remembered. But then again, it might be serious, too, something to do with the spell, maybe

"I don't feel well."

The sorcerer's face immediately turned serious.

"What is it?"

"My stomach hurts. Do you think something can have gone wrong or-"

"I'll see if I can find something."

The sorcerer put a hand on Arthur's belly. Even through his t-shirt, the contact made him shiver. Merlin's eyes turned gold and Arthur felt something warm inside him. He held his breath. If it was serious…He didn't want to think about it. When Merlin's shoulders began to shook, he feared the worse. Then he realised what he'd taken for sobs were, in fact, giggles.

"What's so funny?" he asked, slightly wounded, only to see Merlin burst into laughter. At least, chances were Arthur wasn't seriously ill. Still, it wasn't a reason to make fun of him like that. He crossed his arms on his chest and put on his darkest glare. "What is it?"

"Your face," the sorcerer managed to say between two fit of laughter. "You looked so terrified."

"I still don't see why it's so funny."

"You're only hungry."

"Oh." Arthur's cheeks coloured. "Well, how was I supposed to know, uh?" he added grumpily to hide his embarrassment.  "I haven't had to eat for years."

Merlin put a hand on his cheek, his thumb brushing his skin. A fond smile found his way to his lips.

"I'll fix you something."

He made to get up but Arthur carefully wrapped his fingers around his wrist. "Wait."

The sorcerer raised an eyebrow. Arthur pulled him gently. He let his fingertips trail up Merlin's arm, over his shoulder to reach his neck, and felt him shiver. The sorcerer's ragged breath was warm on his skin as he leaned forward and caught when their lips met. Arthur's pulsed raced. For a moment, they remained completely still. Even the simple press of Merlin's mouth against his seemed too much. Then the sorcerer set to rediscover Arthur's lips, brushing them with his, tracing them with the tip his tongue. His slow exploration sent waves of heat into Arthur's body. His lips parted as he let out a moan and Merlin's tongue found his. For a moment, Arthur feared his brain might shut down from the sheer intensity of the sensation. It didn't and he finally kissed back.

"I thought you were hungry," Merlin whispered when they pulled apart, breathing heavily.

"I am. But we've also determined I wasn't going to die in the next minutes."

"Yeah, well, we'd better get up before I can't take my hands off of you."

Arthur chuckled but didn't answer. He wasn't sure he was ready for more yet, not when he still wasn't used to the new heaviness of his body or the strength of his muscles.

He flung his legs over the side of the mattress. The wooden floor felt foreign under his feet. Suddenly, the prospect of standing up scared him a little. He never had to worry about falling as a ghost. Floating had been effortless. He quickly dismissed the fear as ridiculous. He couldn't stay in bed for the rest of his life, could he? So he pushed on his legs slowly. He swayed at first but managed to find his balance. Good. Now he only had to put one foot in front of the other until he reached the kitchen.

He could feel Merlin's eyes on him as he carefully lifted his left leg and took a step. The movement seemed odd and his leg heavy. He had to concentrate to keep his balance. He repeated the operation with his right foot and began to think that maybe walking wasn't that difficult after all.

Of course, a few steps later, he tripped and fell hard on the ground. Merlin was beside him in a heartbeat.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes. A bit out of practice, it seems."

The sorcerer smiled softly.

"Let me help you up."

He put an arm around Arthur's chest and supported his weight as they stood up slowly.

"Do you want me to bring your food here?"

"Nah, as I said, practice."

Merlin nodded. He took his arm away but stayed close. Arthur put a hand on his shoulder to help his balance. They progressed slowly but reached the kitchen.

Much to Arthur's shame, the short trip had exhausted him so he took a seat. Merlin sat opposite him. Their legs brushed under the table.

"Didn't you say something about food?"

The sorcerer smiled. His eyes turned gold before Arthur noticed kitchen utensils move around the stove.

"I have much better to do than to cook right now."

"Have you?"

Merlin only grinned, never taking his gaze away from the other man. His fingers traced patterns on the back of Arthur's hand. The contact was soft and comforting, far from the overwhelming intensity of their kiss. It could have lulled him to sleep again if he wasn't so intent on enjoying every single second of it. He'd craved contact for too long to trade it for something as mundane as sleep. Well, he'd missed sleep too because time dragged when you were up 24/7 and utterly invisible. But he didn't miss it now when he had Merlin right in front of him and could finally touch him.

Arthur's free hand trailed on Merlin's arm. He marvelled at the goose bumps that formed under his fingers and the way the sorcerer bit his lip. He wanted more of that, he realised, and the force of that thought took him by surprise. He wanted to feel Merlin shiver under his caresses and hear him moan under his kisses. He wanted to explore his body, relearn its shapes and rediscover all his sensitive spots. He still wasn't sure he was ready, especially after his display of clumsiness and poor coordination, but wanted it in a way that he'd never felt as a ghost.

A plate full of pasta floating towards his head interrupted his thoughts. It stopped right in front of him and landed delicately on the table. Cutlery and a second plate for Merlin quickly followed. Arthur hesitated before putting a single penne in his mouth and chewing experimentally. Now wasn't the right time to choke himself. He moaned.

"Your magic definitely can cook."

"It's just pasta and tomato sauce."

Arthur took another mouthful. The richness of the sauce combined with the spice was divine. Granted, after five years of fasting he presumed just about anything edible would have satisfied him.

"Well, it's delicious all the same."

Merlin seemed deeply amused by the remark.

"You've not always been that generous with compliments."

"True. Who knows, maybe I'll make up for that."

"Nah, I wouldn't want you to hurt your pride."

Arthur chuckled.

Eating took most of his attention, that and Merlin's fingers that hadn't left his free hand, so he remained silent for the rest of their meal. He noticed the way Merlin's gradually faltered, though, and was replaced by a frown.

"Is there something wrong?"

The sorcerer startled.

"What? No, why?"

"You look pensive."

"I just noticed something felt different. I was trying to pinpoint what exactly."

"Did you find it?"

"I can't feel you anymore."

Arthur tried to read Merlin's face but couldn't decipher how that change affected him.

"Is it bad?"

"I don't know. I'd grown used to it. It's a bit like something's missing." He flashed a smile. "I'm glad to give it up if that means I have you back, though."

His grip on Arthur's hand tightened and he grinned. Silence settled again as a wave of tiredness overcame Arthur. He fought it. Merlin hadn't waited 15 centuries for him only to see him take a nose-dive so quickly. Arthur's efforts were vain, though, and soon his eyelids were drooping.

"I'll take you back to bed," the sorcerer said gently.

Arthur forced his eyes open.

"No, it's alright."

"You're falling asleep. Come on."

After a few protests, Arthur gave in and they walked back to the bedroom in the same fashion they had come.

"I'm sorry I'm not very entertaining right now," Arthur said as he lied down.

"You need to get used to your new body, it's alright. Besides, you've watched me sleep for months. It's time I take that advantage."

By the time Merlin lied down beside him and took his hand, Arthur was half asleep.

***

Arthur spent that day and the next alternating short periods of consciousness with long naps. Everything exhausted him. He felt guilty about it but Merlin assured him he didn't mind. Even when he had to go back to work on the afternoon of the second day and they agreed it was safer for Arthur to stay in Avalon where he wouldn't draw attraction until he got his strength back, even then Merlin didn't complain. He put back his departure as much as he could and Arthur had to tear himself from his arms to force him to go but he didn't complain. He was worried about leaving Arthur on his own, tough. He'd enchanted two notebooks so that whatever was written in one would appear on the other. A trick that wouldn't have been needed if Merlin had owned a cell phone like everyone else, Arthur had teased. He'd nonetheless agreed to write every evening to assure his lover that everything was alright.

He spent the following days much in the same fashion as the previous ones, namely sleeping most of the time. His balance and coordination improved quicker than he'd expected, though. The morning of the fourth day he even managed an hour-long walk in the forest without losing his balance once.

He was dozing on the sofa, recovering from his efforts, when he heard the sound of an engine coming nearer. He straightened up at once, all trace of exhaustion vanished from his body. It wasn't Merlin's day off yet. Whoever this visitor was, he was uninvited.

Arthur's heart pounded hard in his chest. His mind raced to think of any kind of weapon. He was acutely aware of his vulnerability in this mortal body. The countless bruises he'd acquired from his falls were a constant reminder of how easily he could be wounded. And his last encounter with burglars hadn't ended well.  As he half ran, half stumbled to the kitchen in search of a knife, he wondered if his presence on Earth was undesirable or if he'd been a fool to think he could escape his destiny.

He tensed when the engine was killed. Soon after, he heard the door open and footsteps come in.

"Arthur?"

He dropped the knife at the sound of Merlin's voice. His shoulders relaxed but his heart was still racing. He didn't trust his voice to answer.

The sorcerer must have heard the clattering of metal, though, because he was in the kitchen a moment later.

"Hey," he greeted with a smile. Then his gaze dropped to the knife and flickered up again to take in Arthur's dishevelled appearance. He frowned. "Is everything alright?"

"I thought… I thought you were thief."

Merlin cocked his head to the side. An amused smile crept up on his lips.

"You think I left without making sure no one but us could come near the house?"

"Oh." Arthur looked down at his hands. They were still shaking. He felt a bit stupid.

The sorcerer put his arms around him and held him close. The warmth of his body was comforting. Gradually, Arthur relaxed.

"I'm sorry I frightened you."

"It's alright." He put a kiss in Merlin's hair before adding, "How come you're back so soon?"

"I took a few days off. I wasn't up to much good anyway."

"You weren't worried, were you?"

"Not really. Frustrated, more like."

"I'd have thought you had more patience."

"I've waited for too long to lose precious time with you."

Arthur chuckled at his childish tone. His lips found Merlin's and what he had meant to be a fleeting kiss lingered. His hands slipped under the sorcerer's shirt. He could hear Merlin's breath shorten as his fingers roamed on his skin. A hot wave of desire surged through his body. He left the sorcerer's lips to kiss his neck.

"Would going to bed now be a good use of that precious time?" he whispered into Merlin's ear.

"Very good."

****

That morning, the bed was empty when Arthur woke up. It had been a week since Merlin came back and Arthur was finally managing normal sleeping schedules. It was frustrating to be stuck here. He was impatient to leave Avalon, to walk in the streets of London again, see people. To live. The longer he stayed here the more afraid he was to see repeat the errors he'd made in the past, let his time fly by without making anything of it and waste this chance.

He put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt the sorcerer had brought him and walked to the living-room. It was empty as well but through the window, Arthur could see Merlin standing on the shore, his back to the house. He wondered how much time his lover had spent like that throughout his life, watching the water in the hope to see his king rise. Merlin had started open up about his past yet there was still so much Arthur didn't know.  His chest tightened at the sight. He quickly joined Merlin.

"Good morning," he said, putting his arms around him.

"Hey."

The sorcerer's voice was strained. Only then did Arthur notice the tears on his cheeks.

"What's wrong?"

Merlin took a deep breath and leaned on the other man.

"I'm doing it again. I swore to myself I wouldn't but I'm just doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Lying to you."

"Okay… Should I be worried?"

"Not really. But I am."

Arthur squeezed him tighter. Their cheeks brushed.

"Hey… You know you can trust me, right?"

"Yes, of course but..." Merlin sighed. "I guess I'd better tell you now."

"You're worrying me. Go on."

"There's… Something I haven't told you about magic. There are… A few rules. And one of them… Well, one of them is that you can't create a life without giving one in return."

Arthur tensed. There was an edge of panic in his voice when he asked, "What have you done?"

"I gave my immortality."

Arthur let go of Merlin as if he'd been burnt. He took a step back.

"No! No, you can't have! You-"

"Arthur, please." The sorcerer turned to face him. He reached a hand towards his lover but Arthur moved away. Merlin's arm fell limp at his side. His chin trembled. "Listen to me, I-"

"You should have told me!"

"It was my decision to make. I was afraid you wouldn't understand."

"So you just hid it from me until I couldn't do anything about it?!"

Merlin lowered his heads. His shoulders slumped. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"You're right. I should have told you. But I… I wanted you back so badly, I didn't want to lose time arguing about that. I… My decision was made, nothing you would have said could have changed my mind. I'm sorry."

Arthur stared at him. He felt cold and dizzy. He'd never stopped to think about the consequence of bringing someone back to life. He should have realised there was a price to pay. Now it was too late.

"Merlin, you… I'm not worth your life."

"You'd rather I'd killed a stranger maybe?"

"No! No, of course not!"

"Than what's wrong with I've done?"

"We could have found another way, one that didn't require you sacrificing yourself for me."

"It's not. A sacrifice, I mean. Arthur, I've lived too long. How many times have I told you I'm tired? I can't do this anymore. And I certainly can't bring you back just to lose you again and again until magic's gone and I'm all alone. I just… I just want to grow old with you."

Arthur's heart ache at the pain in Merlin's voice. He closed the distance between them and held him tight.

"I want to live this one life and make the most of it because it's my last chance. I want to meet people without knowing I'll outlive them for centuries. Destiny's clearly forgotten about us so I just want to have this life I've been waiting for and then finally rest in peace."

"And you'll have it. This life. We'll travel the world or… Settle in a cottage to raise bees."

Merlin managed a snort amid his tears.

"Bees?"

"Cats? Dogs? Lizards? I don't know. Whatever makes you happy."

"Only if it makes you happy too."

"I'm sure we can find something to suit us both."

Gradually, Merlin's tears receded. Arthur held him close until his body relaxed in his arms. He was still in shock, still couldn't quite believe that his lover wasn't immortal anymore, that he'd gave that up for him. It was hard enough to know Merlin had waited for him for centuries. Now it was their last chance. Arthur couldn't disappoint him. For a moment, he thought the pressure would crush him. Then he realised that nothing would be perfect anyway. He could only strive to make it good.

Arthur pulled back and gently cupped Merlin's face in his hands.

"I love you," he whispered before kissing him.

"I love you too."

They smiled and for a moment they just stared at each other in silence. Then Arthur let go of Merlin's face.

"Let's have breakfast."

He made for the house but the sorcerer grabbed his wrist to hold him back. "Wait."

Arthur turned to face him with a quizzical look.

"About what I've done… I made my choice. I've done it for you but I've also done it for me. I don't want you to feel guilty."

"I… Merlin, it's huge. Everything you've done for me, it's fucking huge. I'll keep that in mind. I'll try but I can't promise you I won't mess up one day and feel unworthy."

"Then I'll be there to remind you you're not." He squeezed Arthur's wrist once then let go. "Come on, let's eat before you go all grumpy."

"I'm never grumpy!"

"You are when you're hungry."

"Oi!"

But Merlin was already running to the house, laughing. Arthur ran after him.

They ate and lazed around for a while. Then Merlin disappeared in the bedroom. When he come back, he was carrying a worn-out leather notebook he handed to Arthur.

"What is it?"

"Something I've wanted to show you for a while."

Arthur opened it on the first page. It was a list scribbled in Merlin's messy handwriting. The first line read "sunset on Avalon" and was ticked. Arthur leafed through a few pages. There were names of places he knew like Venice or Beijing and others he'd never heard of like the porcelain tower of Nanjing. There were activities too: see a play at the Globe, trekking on the Drakensberg... Arthur looked up only to find Merlin staring expectantly at him.

"You still haven't told me what it is."

"A sort of bucket list. Every time I was somewhere or doing something and I wished you were there, I wrote it down. Obviously, some of these things are long gone but I thought… We could travel for a while. I'm used to get passports and visa for myself so that won't be a problem. Money would be trickier but I guess I could make exceptions to my rule of not cheating with magic. And we could-"

"Hey, slow down a little, will you?"

Merlin bit his lip.

"Sorry. So um… What do you think?"

"I think I've been trapped in a house for too long and I can't way to travel the world with you."

The sorcerer beamed at him.

"Great! So I thought we could go big right from the start. Like China or Korea or somewhere in South America if you prefer. I adore Costa Rica and..."

As Merlin went on exposing his ideas, Arthur half-listened, a dopey smile on his lips. He wasn't sure if he deserved this second, or rather, third life or someone as loving as Merlin but he decided that didn't matter. He could only be grateful, enjoy and strive to see make Merlin happy.


End file.
